LOUISE COLEMAN

i remember when he had to die-an old sweet dog with cancer.

He clung to his bed and hated to go anywhere. When the vet came and gave him an injection and sent him to heaven. We both cried. Boston Boy was a seasoned racer, aged five, when I got him. I hadn’t thought about getting a dog. It just seemed too bad that a dog with a name like Boston Boy was going to be destroyed and would get no reward for all his work. An extraordinary racer, he finished at five at a top track and was never graded off. After I brought him home and tried to introduce people to him, he would act like a canine statue.

I nicknamed him Shadow because he shadowed me. But alone with my son Nolan and I, he was demonstrative and himself. Shadow wasn’t alone for long. He became long-suffering and patient as more greyhounds entered and passed through his home. Trainers, who knew about his adoption kept calling up to ask me to find homes for more dogs. Greyhounds sat on all the couches and chairs. Boston Boy was permanent; he knew that he was for keeps, for good. But he was like a stone thrown into still water. From him concentric circles started. They are still going out.