The Dud Dogs — Harley The one nobody asked for. The one nobody could live without.

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If you read our first Dud Dogs post you'll already know about Moose. Chief of Security. Theoretical intimidator. Professional counter leaner. If you haven't read it yet — go and have a look. We'll wait.

Right. Now meet Harley.

Harley. The Birthday Boy. The One Andrew Didn't Want.

Harley is a Leonberger. If you don't know what a Leonberger is, imagine a lion decided to become a dog but didn't quite commit to either. The result is Harley — magnificent, enormous, spectacularly fluffy and entirely convinced that all furniture, all laps and all available floor space belongs to him by birthright.

He currently weighs 75kg. He has no idea.

Harley came into the world as one of nine puppies from Esme — our beautiful Leonberger girl and very much a story for another day. He was home bred, born into chaos, difficulty and somehow — against the odds of an already considerable dog population — he stayed.

He stayed because Deb fought for him.

It was Deb's 50th birthday. The litter had been born during the first Covid lockdown, the world had gone quietly mad and after everything that litter had put her through — the sleepless nights, the worry, the loss — Deb looked at this particular green collared puppy and decided she was keeping him whether anyone liked it or not.

She put her case to Andrew. Andrew was not immediately convinced. Andrew is a practical man who had taken one look at the existing dog situation and formed a view.

The kids got involved. Just let Mum keep him after everything she's gone through with this litter.

Andrew gave in. Grudgingly and on record.

Green boy became Harley. Affectionately known by the kids as Chunk. Or Chungus Humungus on formal occasions. He is none of these things ironically — he is regal, he is gentle and he is, without question, one of the best decisions this family ever made even if one member of it took a little convincing.

Andrew adores him now. We don't mention the earlier position. He appreciates that.

75kg and No Brakes

Harley at full speed is something to behold. He doesn't so much run as flow — like a very large, very enthusiastic golden wave heading directly towards you with no particular plan for what happens when he arrives. The answer, usually, is that he arrives. All of him. At once.

He has the heart of a puppy in the body of a small horse and he is magnificent for it. Patient with the younger dogs, gentle with visitors, quietly devastated if anyone leaves the house without saying goodbye to him first. He did allow a small Rottweiler puppy to use him as a sofa during the early days. The puppy licence has long since expired. Moose is now Chief of Security and considerably less welcome in Harley's personal space. Some things change.

Harley's Other Job

We should mention that alongside his unofficial role as living room ornament and sofa occupant, Harley holds another position at RVS.

Emotional Support Dog.

Now. We say this with our tongues firmly in our cheeks because Harley has never been formally assessed, does not carry any kind of certificate and would almost certainly fail the paperwork on account of being 75kg of barely containable enthusiasm. But here's the thing — he is an empath. Genuinely and completely.

He knows. He always knows.

Difficult day at the garage? Harley is there. Someone's a bit quiet at dinner? Harley is there. Feeling overwhelmed at 11pm on a Tuesday for no particular reason? Harley has already crossed the room, placed his enormous head in your lap and is looking up at you with those soft brown eyes that say I don't know what's wrong but I'm not going anywhere.

The fluffiness is almost weaponised at this point. It is very difficult to remain in any kind of emotional distress when 75kg of golden Leonberger has decided you need him. He doesn't ask questions. He doesn't offer solutions. He just arrives. All of him. At once.

We should probably pay him. He does more hours than most of the staff.

He is Deb's dog in the way that some dogs just are someone's dog. Completely and without question. The bond between them is one of those things that doesn't need explaining to anyone who has ever had that dog — the one that arrived at exactly the right moment and filled a space you didn't know was there.

Harley was that dog. He still is.

Next time — we go deeper. Because Moose and Harley are just the beginning. There are more Leonbergers, there are Working Cockers, there is a rescue Pug, there is a Yakutian Laika and there is Faith. And Faith's story is something else entirely. Watch this space. 👀