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Apr. 26, 2012 It s been two years now since my dogs Harley and Duke died; Harley was fourteen when she passed on, Duke was twelve. There are few human beings I admire as much as I did Harley and Duke, and none that I admire more. They were Rhodesian Ridgebacks, a breed justly famous for their courage, speed and strength; more than once I watched Harley stand down an angry black bear, chase a pack of coyotes off our property and run a mountain lion up a tree. Duke, more impressively, stood up to my father, an angry, menacing man who, one Sunday afternoon, raised his hand as if to strike Duke, expecting Duke to cower or flinch; Duke did neither, instead taking a step forward and looking up at my father with a chilling degree of calm.