SYNOPSIS | CHAPTERS & EXCERPTS
"Leo is back. And I’m delighted. From the opening paragraph to the closing line, I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough. It’s been too long since we first met Leo, and I forgot how much I missed him. Once again Cindy Victor enchants us with a wonderful story that incorporates real lessons about the life of and life with retired racing Greyhounds. Let’s hope Leo returns soon."
—Lee Livingood, author of Retired Racing Greyhounds for Dummies
Synopsis
"Another Leo book I could not put down! From cover to cover I found myself rooting for Leo, laughing, giggling, and thoroughly entertained. Thirty-six paws up from this family of nine adopted greyhounds."
—Rory S. Goreé, president, Greyhound Pets of America
When Leo's owner, Mike Dozer, goes away for two weeks on a writing assignment, Leo—a retired racing Greyhound—feels more terrified than ever of the aggressive Rottweiler who lives up the street. He feels even worse when Mike's sister comes to Minneapolis with her two Pekingese, Mop and Duster, to dog-sit him. Now our would-be champion is confronted by a lonely Rottie who wants him dead, a pampered Peke who wants him demoralized, an ancient Ming vase that can cast a spine-chilling curse on him, and confounding humans who aren't sure what they want.
Is there a dog alive who could rise to so many challenges and come out a winner? Leo, who raced as Luv You Too Much, gives it his best shot. And throughout his adventures and misadventures he ponders the ways of humans.
"In Leo in China, Cindy Victor artfully portrays the purity of canine virtue and innocence. With the skill of a Bloodhound she escorts the reader through the maze of Leo's dilemmas -- to have us emerge at the end with a joyful smile and total satisfaction. Two opposable thumbs up to Cindy Victor for capturing the special essence of all dogs and what they do for their humans."
—Dr. Rodger Barr, DVM, founder and president of Northern Lights Greyhound Adoption
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Chapters & Excerpts
Below is a list of chapter titles. Click on the highlighted titles to read an excerpt from that chapter.
Call Me Crazy
Snapping at Flies
Call Her Dizzy
Bad Dog!
Mop and Duster
Thought-Talking Dog
Goodbye Bad Dog
Hello Al Capone
Did I Ask to Be a Role Model?
Me Doctor, You Koko
Ladies and Gentlemen—You Saw It Here!
I'm in China!
The Setup
May I Have This Dance?
doG?
The Curse of the Ming Vase
Heist Number Eighteen
You Talk, I'll Die
These Are My People
Home to America
If It Looks Like a Cucumber
Call Me a Hopeless Romantic
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Snapping at Flies (excerpt)
Mike bolted to a sit as the last "No!" shot from my mouth. Holding the phone to his ear, he stared at me as if I'd just . . . well, talked.
I shivered. Now he knew I was a talking dog who understood every word said in my presence. I wanted to blurt that under no circumstances would I tell Kim he hadn't liked the restaurant she took him to on his birthday, or the orange shirt she gave him to celebrate his selling three magazine articles in one week. But words fail a coward, and I felt very cowardly at the moment.
"Did you hear that?" Mike asked his mother. "No, it wasn't a siren. It was Leo. Yes, Leo. All that noise came from him."
Oh, great. Now Grandma Dozer knew too. I didn't think either of them would rat on me to a scientist, because neither would wish me harm. But they would tell their friends, who in turn would tell their friends. Eventually, scientists the world over would be bidding on parts of my brain for research.
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Did I Ask to Be a Role Model? (excerpt)
I had just closed my eyes when I heard Dizzy ask Al, "Did Mike tell you that Leo's first owner, the movie star Douglas Drake, had Leo neutered on live TV?"
I tensed, as I always did when this conversation came up—and it always came up. Sometimes I would drown it out by silently shouting names of racing dogs I knew, such as TeePee Patch, Cooper Grako, Madam Hooch. This time, though, I didn't do that, so I heard Dizzy say, "I think Douglas Drake did a wonderful thing by using Leo to promote spay-neuter programs throughout the country. My Duster hadn't been neutered, but after seeing Leo neutered on television, I made an appointment for Duster to have the surgery."
That explained it! Duster's hatred of me wasn't because I was pathetic. He had a grudge against me. And how could I blame him? I'd been the role model for his going into a veterinarian clinic intact, and coming out minus the family jewels. It's no small thing, even for a Peke. Sure, you're still a guy, but your guyness is different from how it was when you woke up that morning. I thought I should stay away from Duster. He could be a danger to me. But how could I stay away from him when we were going to share cramped quarters for two weeks?
My predicament made me feel awful. So awful that Al's and Dizzy's hands on me weren't a comfort. The truth was I didn't want to stay away from Duster. This was the first time in my life there was someone I could really talk to. Even if it was all nasty, angry, skunk-against-skunk, in-your-face hostile talk, it would be communication. That's a hard thing to give up, especially when the chance may never come again.
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You Talk, I'll Die (excerpt)
I climbed onto the daybed and very gently maneuvered Duster so we'd be facing each other when I lay down, which I did after flipping his ear up with my teeth. I didn't try to insert a knuckle into his ear, because that would be difficult. Humans might not want to give an ear massage the way I was going to do it, but I of course had no qualms about where my nose went.
Duster showed no response, and to my surprise my nose tired quickly. I was repositioning myself so I could give my nose a break and use the two middle knuckles of my left foot for a while, when suddenly Duster flipped his ear flap down. "You moved!" I cried. "You're all right, aren't you?"
Duster opened his eyes. No. I'm dying. Until I do, keep your pathetic needle nose out of my ear.
"You can't be dying! You wouldn't be nasty if you were dying! I think you're all right and just trying to upset me. Admit it! I'm right, aren't I?"
I can't answer. Dying is hard. I'm very weak.
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These Are My People (excerpt)
"It is Leo. I could never forget that butt," said a woman behind me, while in front of me a man approached very slowly with a lead. I was torn. If caught, I could stop running. No more threat of being hit by a car or attacked by an off-leash dog. But the downside would be knowing for the rest of my days that I'd cared more about myself than about Duster.
I turned and ran. As I did, a multitude of voices called to me, and an amazing sight unfolded. Tens—no, hundreds—of humans got down on the lawn and waved their arms in the air. Some waved their legs, too. "Biscuit, Leo!" they shouted in happy tones. "Treats, Leo!"
Meanwhile, the dogs, tethered to their owners' waving hands—with many of those hands clutching hot dogs and biscuits—jumped and twirled about, stealing treats meant for me.
I knew what was going on. It was a ploy. They were doing what Greyhound adopters are taught to do if a dog gets loose. But so what? If the sun rising in the morning is a ploy to get you up and out of bed, do you feel any less happy to see the sun rise? About me were dogs of my kind and humans who love my kind. Smiles lit every human face and shouts of merriment filled the air as dogs hopped about snatching hot dogs from their owners' hands. And all the while, happy voices called lovingly to me.
These were my people. I could stop running. I could have a hot dog.
You think too much. And you don't do what's needed. Go for help.
I threw back my head, yelled, "Follow me!" and ran.
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If It Looks Like a Cucumber (excerpt)
Sleep came, at last, and alas, so did morning. We precious puppies went outside to do our business and be rewarded for it, came back inside to eat our breakfast and be rewarded with a delicious biscuit for eating our delicious moistened kibble, and watched Dizzy get dressed to go out for breakfast with Gage. When he came down from the castle, he offered to take us outside again, but not being from Arizona, he didn't reward business with biscuits. I didn't care. I was silently begging doG to give Gage a stomach cramp so he wouldn't feel like going out to breakfast. It didn't happen. Diz kissed us goodbye, and she and Gage drove off in his car. Duster looked at me and thought-talked, Let's go.
I thought fast and asked, "What if the security alarm goes off when we come back and I open the door?"
The security system is disabled.
I knew that but had hoped he'd forgotten. Now there was no hope at all unless Priscilla's uncle had decided to go to church and to grandma's, which wasn't likely. In my experience with humans, the kind ones stay kind, and the unkind ones stay stinky mean.
When we get to the house, you'll ring the doorbell.
"I don't know if I can do that with Bad Dog tearing me apart," I said morosely.
Maybe he'll be inside. If not, I'll distract him. His tail isn't docked. I'll grab him by the end of it and hold on.
I pictured Bad Dog whipping his tail so hard that Duster would be flung into a tree or onto the roof. Maybe that would give me time to escape.