My name is Harley, and that is a very confusing name because I am not in to leather or chrome or denim. My first parents gave me that name and then they gave me up. Fortunately, I went to live with an outdoors lover and fashion diva that could deliver the lifestyle of recreation and culture that I so richly deserved.
It all began when my dad tried to make be a hunter. My first collar was the classic Orvis leather with the shotgun shell brass accent….just like so many of my old man’s belts. He’s a great guy and I love to go hunting with him, but really? A svelte thing like me prancing through the inner loop in brown leather? My mom quickly intervened.
While mom’s first dabbles in to my fashion life were quite embarrassing – she dressed me up as a Jane Fonda work out dog and then a bumble bee for Halloween – she quickly took the hint when I ate both the early “outfits”, if you can even call them that. She realized that I was a lady that wanted to follow in her Manolo Blahnik footsteps and be outfitted in accessories by Prada for dogs.
My Collar Closet began to grow and we abide by several rules. The first rule is to be seasonal, but not over the top (the human equivalent of such a “faux paw” is a bipod in a Christmas sweater). Recently, I had my mom switch out my red and white snow flake collar by Bark Jacobs for a New Orleans inspired blue collar that features street cars, crawfish and Fleur-de-lis. This is a subtle reminder of my Cajun roots (and how much I would love to get my jaws around a Hubig’s pie one day) and worked for February because we were in Mardi Gras season.
For March, I have moved on to a more spring themed collar which we will talk about next time. I will also share some hints for avoiding traumatic collar experiences!
. But back to these beds. Why do I love them so much? Well, there is a 
Stay furry and fabulous!
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