I can’t believe this book has only 15 ratings-it is such a fun book I’m surprised more people haven’t read it.
Donna Moore won the Lefty award (most humorous crime/mystery book) for Go to Helena Hand basket and she should have won it for this book too!

This is a caper that truly lives up to the meaning of the word caper; a frivolous escapade or prank. In this mad-cap caper two 70-something, former prostitutes, come up with a plan to heist a pair of golden dogs from an exhibit at the Glasgow Museum. But they are not the only ones who come up with this same plan-throw in a pair of Dumb and Dumber ex-cons who work at a crematorium, the ex-girlfriend of the museum director, a novice Tibetan monk and a hit-man, and let the hijinks begin.

I don’t say this often, but I actually laughed out loud in parts of this book, and even had to read some of the dialog to my husband.

Moore is witty, clever, and sailors must envy her creative swearing ability. This book is a hoot and I recommend it to anyone looking for a well written, hilarious escape!
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From the back cover: La Contessa Letitzia di Ponzo and her sister Signora Teodora Grisiola are not who they might seem. Now in their seventies, they’re actually Letty and Dora, a pair of ex-hookers turned con-artists who’ve decided to steal a pair of gold, jewel-0encrusted Tibetan shih tzu dog statuettes from a Glasgow museum. Unfortunately, it seems everyone wants to get their hands on the expensive pooches.

My reactions
I was immediately reminded of Donald E Westlake’s crime capers, or the crazy, convoluted plot elements of the best Carl Hiaasen novels. The characters and plot elements are ridiculous, but that’s what makes it so much fun to read. I was constantly wondering what on earth Moore would come up with next.

This is not great literature. It isn’t even a good mystery. But it IS a fast, entertaining read. ( )

Classic heist-story about a pair of septuagenarian ex-hookers turned con artist who plan to steal statuettes from a museum, but with half a dozen other people also after the statuettes, the plan obviously goes awry in a convoluted and humorous manner. As always with books that are described as rip-roaringly funny, this isn't quite the laugh-fest I expected. It is, however, an amusing and clever story filled with quirky characters that all have something for the reader to like, even though most, if not all, of them are "baddies." I especially liked Letty and Dora whose crusty language provides for some nice chuckles. It's not one I'll keep on my bookshelf, but it was a very decent read. ( )

very funny, good caper. ( )

Unless I’m mistaken, Donna Moore is of no relation to Bob Moore, the author of "Don't Call Me a Crook!", although like the rogue marine-engineer she calls Glasgow home, is superb storyteller with a thief’s eye for detail and a great, if sometimes deranged, sense of humor. I mean that in the nicest possible way. I’ve met the author and can I tell you she’s a charming English Rose, one that you’d never suspect could conjure such a smutty, sanguineous and scatological masterpiece.
The Old Dogs in question are Dora and Letty, two sisters and retired hookers who still turn tricks, though the tricks nowadays aren’t fornication but swindle. When we first meet them they’re posing as Italian aristocrats, selling phony ownership-certificates in thoroughbred horses to Glasgow’s upper-crust. Age hasn’t slowed them down by a long shot: they’re two clever, randy and hip canines. Letty even sports Ramones and Kings of Leon T-shirts. They’d make great dinner guests, although you’d be wise to lock up your valuables and your sons.
The ancient bitches soon turn eyes on two other Old Dogs: a couple of golden Shih Tzu statuettes on loan to a local museum. Unfortunately for the crafty whores, others also have sights on the precious pooches: the museum’s former curator, on a jihad against her smarmy, job-stealing ex-lover; an earnest, guileless Buddhist neophyte; a lumpen-prole Laurel and Hardy duo; Dora and Letty’s slimy-as-an-eel chauffeur; and the most charming, erudite sociopath you’d ever want to meet. I want to be Victor Stanislav when I grow up.
Unlike a lot of writers, Moore doesn’t rely on a single strength. Old Dogs’s layered, arabesque plot twists and turns but never induces migraines. Honestly, I think Moore penned screwball comedies in another life. That or wrote strips for Viz. And like all screenwriters worth their salt, she’s adept at jump cuts, telling details, and snappy dialogue. Speaking which, I can’t pass up the chance to quote some of my favorite passages:
“I haven’t used any elbow grease since I stopped giving shandies to all those tight bastards who didn’t want to pay for a full shag.”
“I need a Barry White.
“No fucking way, Raymie. You’ll need to hold it in.
“I cannae, Dunc. I’m touching cloth.”
“Sheehan... watched Scotland’s rich and famous swarm around his new employers like bluebottles around diamond-encrusted shite.”
And like the best of movies, Old Dogs offers a total world. It’s a travel guide to a violent, chaotic and cynical Glasgow. But Moore cuts the darkness with dollops of slapstick humor and even a little hope. Think of a dark-chocolate cake with an orange-cream filing.
I can only hope that some enterprising film-director will put Old Dogs up on the silver screen, and at the very least, you’ll do yourself a favor and read this terrific book. ( )