The book begins: "From the Diary of Leigh Botts
June 6
This afternoon, as Mom was leaving for work at the hospital, she said for the millionth time, "Leigh, please clean up your room. There is no excuse for such a mess. And don't forget the junk under your bed."
I said, "Mom, you're nagging. I'm going to Barry's house."
She plunked a kiss on my hair and said, "Room first, Barry second. Besides, where would the world be without nagging mothers? Everything would go to pieces."
Maybe she's right. Things are pretty deep in my room. I hauled all the rubbish out from under my bed. In the midst of all the old socks, school papers, models that have fallen apart, paperback books (one library book-oops!), and other stuff, I found the diary I kept a couple of years ago when I was a mixed-up kid in the sixth grade. Mom had just divorced Dad and moved with me to Pacific Grove, better known as P.O., where I was a new kid in school, which wasn't easy. ..." But Leigh doesn't just read old diaries. "The beach was gray and chilly and a dog was sitting in the soft sand. He was tan with a few white spots and a white mark in the center of his face.
"Come on, fella," I said to the dog and patted my knee.
The dog didn't move. This dog looked up with the saddest look I have ever seen on a dog's face.
"Come on, boy," I coaxed. The dog didn't budge.
I got an idea. We both pulled off our shoes and socks and began to run up and down the beach. Suddenly the dog came racing across the sand and began to run with us.
"Good boy, Strider," I said. Strider seemed like a good name for a running dog. ..."