I’d known Alan and Twist for years. Twist had a sharp bend at the end of his long, graceful tail, caused by some trauma in his previous life as a racing greyhound in Ireland. Alan had rehomed Twist from someone else in the hostel. The dog had been left alone a lot and howled, causing complaints.
Alan said, “I’ll take him.” There followed 10 years of what, to me, as a vet of over 30 years’ experience, seemed the ideal existence for a dog – living with a homeless person for whom the dog is the single most important being in that person’s life, their most significant other.
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In summer, they often camped out in one of the many green spaces in the city – Alan had a good tent. They moved around a fair bit. In winter, they were usually back in the hostel, one of the few dog-friendly ones at that time. The pair were never apart.
They were one of the first customers at our student-run pop-up vet clinic, and Twist was fitted with a range of snazzy coats over the years. He was a great favourite and would often try to steal the home baking the students sometimes brought along.
Dogs don’t live as long as we do and over a period of months it became clear that Twist, now 13, was not doing well. Alan came in one day and said Twist had told him it was time, so we put him to sleep on a blanket on the clinic floor with Alan lying beside him. It was a sad moment but also a peaceful and beautiful one, at the end of what had been a charmed life for this ex-racer who had once graced the racetracks at Kilkenny.









