"The greyhounds are now leaving the starting gate..." bellowed the announcer. The shuffling of programs ceased. A woman next to me brandished her binoculars.

They were off!

"Get out there, one. You lazy thing!"

"Move it, girl. Get it out front."

"C'mon you douche!!"

Atomic Tommy wiped out going around the bend; he took the curve too fast. A little fawn-colored dog named Refuge nosed into the lead and clinched it.

I asked the older couple next to me how they decided which dogs to bet on.

"Oh, if the dog's name is Stanley, or if he reminds me of somebody I know," the man said good-naturedly. "I'm not a professional by any mean. It's all luck."

He and his wife added that they had won and lost $50 that very evening. "We'll probably go through ten dollars before the night is through here, but that's still cheaper than going to a restaurant. Better for the waist, too," his wife chimed in.

Wonderland has the distinction of being one of the oldest dog-tracks in the country. Formerly an amusement park at the turn of the century, the site was converted into a greyhound track in 1935, following the passage of laws allowing pari-mutuel betting on horses and dogs. In 43 years, Wonderland, one of Massachusetts' three dog tracks, has grown into a $60 million-a-year enterprise; the state skims off 9 1/2 per cent of this sum. Depending on his quality, each dog may be worth from $10,000 to $250,000.

Dog racing is quite popular in Ireland, as well as the U.S., and it's common to see the word "Imp." (import) in the program next to a dog's name, indicating that he hails from the Emerald Isle. Donald P. (for Patrick, of course) Cuddy, a Dubliner, has been in this country since 1969 racing his dogs. Sitting next to the track in his tweed jacket, drinking a cup of hot chocolate, Cuddy speaks in a gentle brogue about his 44 years in the dog business.

"Since I fell out of the cradle I've been racin' dogs, ya see. It's an inherited vice. One of my dogs, Downing, who's injured and not here tonight, is one of the best in the world--worth a quarter of a million dollars," he said.

Cuddy said traditionally in Ireland, each farmer has a brood matron from which he breeds a litter. This contrasts with the huge greyhound breeding farms in Texas and Florida. "In Ireland, things are not so institutionalized as here. In my opinion, though, multi-million dollar plants do not necessarily make racing better," Cuddy said,

For Cuddy, "coursing" (dog racing) and wagering on greyhounds have been a genteel tradition he has followed since age ten, when he bet a nickel on dogs with his schoolmates. Bookmaking is legal in Ireland, and gambling has fewer of the immoral overtones that it does in this country. When asked if he thought corruption existed in American dog racing, Cuddy replied, "There are crooked people in every profession. It's wrong to categorize dog racing as being any more dishonest than another. People who say that are full of codswallop."

Does he have any regrets, anything he might have done differently after 44 years in the business?

Cuddy scratched his chin. "Well, ya know, I've always kinda regretted not doin' the veterinary."