K-9 Frankie is the newest recruit at the Bristol Police Department, but she’s no ordinary police canine.
She’s part of a new trend in law enforcement across Connecticut: K-9s serving as support dogs. Instead of sniffing out drugs or tracking down suspects, Frankie’s role focuses on community engagement and supporting victims. She’s also helping with officer wellness by supporting the police officers themselves.
“She’s not just serving me,” said Officer Alysha Pirog, Frankie’s handler. “She’s here for all the officers. … Departments are starting to see that mental health is important.”
In policing, a profession known for its tough guy attitude, officer mental health has long been overlooked. But that’s starting to change, according to Bristol police chief Brian Gould.
“Thirty years ago, there wasn’t a lot of talk about officer wellness,” he said. “It was more you had to harden yourself and not show your emotions, which we all know doesn’t work.”
Police officers respond to tragedies every day, and they start to carry those traumas with them, Gould said. Without support, that can potentially lead to alcoholism, divorce and suicide.
“And if you think about it,” Gould says, “how can you go out and serve the community if you’re not well yourself?”
Gould decided that one way he could support and serve his officers was to have Frankie join his force.
Frankie was trained by the non-profit Puppies Behind Bars, which works with prisons in New York and New Jersey to train support dogs for war veterans, first responders and police departments. From eight weeks old, each puppy lives with their incarcerated “puppy raiser” for two years while learning more than 80 specialized commands.
“Dogs have the ability to open our hearts,” she said.
Gilbert Molina, a former puppy raiser who’s now an instructor, raised three puppies during his time at a correctional facility. He felt proud as each puppy graduated, like a parent watching their child go to college.
“It gives you a sense of value, of worth, of responsibility,” he said. “You have an opportunity for a second shot at life.”
There are 15 Puppies Behind Bars dogs working with police departments across Connecticut, more than any other state, the agency says.
Last year, Gould, the Bristol police chief, saw the power of these support dogs first-hand when tragedy struck his force. On Oct. 12, Sgt. Alex Hamzy and Lt. Dustin DeMonte were attacked and killed in an ambush as they responded to a 911 call.
Their deaths sent shockwaves throughout the state, and especially among Bristol police colleagues and families.
As soon as they heard the news, 10 Puppies Behind Bars dogs working in other police departments, and their handlers, rushed to Bristol to offer support and comfort.
Sgt. Cynthia Torres and K-9 Jules were two of the first on the scene. Torres said there were no words that humans could say to take away the pain and grief, but that Jules instinctively knew what to do – and who needed him most.
Jules walked around a circle of officers. They were experiencing the most grief that Torres said she’s ever seen.
“Jules, he knew what to do,” Torres said. “And to see the big SWAT guys that had responded just crying into his head. They don’t have to say a word with the dog. They don’t have to.
“That’s when I knew it was the real deal with these dogs; this is the thing that works.”
In addition to providing comfort and support to police officers or citizens in distress, the dogs play a vital role in community engagement. Each dog has their own social media account with an avid local following — K-9 Indy of Naugatuck Police has more than over 22,000 Instagram followers. They visit schools, attend sporting events and support community clean- up days, taking on a celebrity status in their towns.
In Bristol, Pirog has found people cross the street specifically to say hi to her and Frankie.
“Sometimes, when people see us, they just see the uniform,” Pirog said. “But when they see Frankie, they also see the person and not just a badge.”
Gould believes the power of these support dogs comes from the joy and unconditional love that they bring. Whether it’s an officer feeling the weight of the world on their shoulders, or a survivor facing their trauma, Frankie can help bring joy during difficult moments.
“She comes up to you and her tail’s wagging and all excited and happy, and now you’re petting the dog, and you feel the love and the caring,” he says.
That moment of joy, he said, can make all the difference.
Correction: The last name of a Waterford police officer was incorrectly spelled in an earlier version of this story. It is Eric Fredricks, not Fredericks.
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