BANGOR – It was a graduation ceremony much like any other but for the dog wearing a blue cap and gown.

That’s not the start of a joke.

In fact, the way Scott Grindle understands it, his yellow Labrador named Splash has just as much a right to a diploma as he does.

Grindle, 23 and blind since birth, has been enrolled at Beal College for the past three years.

For the first two, the Blue Hill native struggled.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t do the work, but something was missing.

It turns out that something was Splash.

Since the two have been together, Grindle has attacked his course work with purpose and, on Sunday, he graduated with diplomas in medical coding and medical transcription.

College officials made sure Splash got a diploma, too.

“It’s really because of Beal that Scott was even able to get a service dog,” his mother, Susan Grindle, said Sunday inside the auditorium at Bangor High School, where her son was one of 96 Beal College graduates for 2006.

Beal is a private, accredited school that serves 400 students and offers associate and one-year diploma programs in fields such as medical transcription, office management, accounting, early childhood education and law enforcement.

For Scott Grindle, it was the perfect fit.

“They were so welcoming and to be welcomed rather than looked at as a nuisance really was important,” Susan Grindle said.

As far back as high school, educators had told Scott that he was not eligible for a guide dog, his mother said.

So the family almost gave up on the idea.

“I didn’t want anyone to tell me that I couldn’t get a guide dog,” Scott said. “Why should that hold me back?”

After months of searching for the right fit, Scott hopped on a plane to Florida about a year ago to visit Southeastern Guide Dogs Inc., a training school for service and guide dogs. He met Splash there and said they became best friends immediately.

“He changed my life,” Scott said as he reached down to pat Splash on the head. “He really has made a difference in my work.”

Scott graduated magna cum laude with a grade-point average of 3.93, but Susan Grindle said it’s not just her son’s schoolwork that Splash made an impact on.

“He sometimes has problems with his balance and used to walk with a cane, which I think was hard for him,” she said. “Now, he walks with dignity.”

Scott, pretending not to hear the words his mother just spoke, said the dog affords him other luxuries as well.

“Everyone here calls him a ‘chick magnet,'” he said and almost instantly a female classmate appeared on Scott’s arm.

Splash, at 3 years old, is about as laid back as a dog can be. He barely makes a peep. Sometimes he falls asleep and snores in class. He doesn’t leave Scott’s side.

So, as his fellow classmates prepared Sunday to march through the audience to the stage, Splash led Scott backstage so he wouldn’t have to use the steps. They sat there in the shadowed area, reflecting on the moment.

As the organ started playing “Pomp and Circumstance,” Susan Grindle straightened her son’s cap.

“This makes me cry,” she said, taking one last look at her son backstage before rushing to claim her seat in the audience.

When Beal College President Allen Stehle delivered the opening remarks, he used part of a quote from P.T. Barnum. He wasn’t speaking to Scott directly, but he might as well have been.

“Look at the work through your own eyes,” Stehle told the students. “Not through someone else’s.”

And Scott does.

“Everyone always talks about using the word ‘see,’ but why shouldn’t I be able to use that word,” he said.

Scott’s was one of the last names called during Sunday’s ceremony. When it was, the applause grew louder and then his classmates – all 95 of them – stood up.

And when he stood in the lobby after the ceremony was over, many came over to pat Splash on the head and meet Scott.

They may not have known his story – not his whole story – but they wanted to shake his hand anyway. They wanted to say “congratulations.”