Chapter Six

“This story, dears,” she begins slowly, in a patient, calming voice, “is about the old dog sitting here with you, who has been through a lot of life and learned a lot of things. A great many years ago, I was a young greyhound, which is just a type of dog,” she adds, likely for Sophia, but I appreciate the extra information, “and my coat was as sleek and shiny as could be: bright silver. You could see it from a mile away, my mother told me, and that meant she could see me when I got into any mischief.

‘When I was old enough, my owner entered me into greyhound races. These are organised races between dogs, where we all get put in cage-like things, before being released to chase something which looks a lot like a rabbit. We go round and round in circles, and the winner is whoever runs the fastest.”

“Did you win?” Baxter asks, rolling over again and raising his head. “I bet you did!”