This Labrador “Failed” Service Dog School, But He’s Winning Hearts By Bringing His Owner Random Stuff (And Endless Joy)
When Samantha Welborn first heard about Leo, a Labrador who didn’t quite make the cut at service dog school, she wasn’t sure she was ready to open her heart again. She had just lost her beloved dog and was still deep in grief when a friend mentioned a goofy, golden bundle of energy who needed a home.
At first, she thought, “No way, it’s too soon.” But when she met Leo for the first time and he came bounding toward her like an over-caffeinated teddy bear, she knew her heart didn’t stand a chance.
It wasn’t just the wagging tail or the soulful brown eyes—it was the way he instantly made her laugh again. It was like Leo had been sent with one mission: to heal her heart, even if he had no idea how to do it properly.
Leo had originally been trained to assist people living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). He knew how to sense emotional changes, stay calm during stressful moments, and provide comfort when needed.
Basically, Leo had all the makings of a superhero in a fur coat—except for one tiny detail. He was way, way too enthusiastic about literally everything.
His trainers soon realized that while he had the heart of a service dog, he had the energy of a toddler on espresso. His greetings weren’t exactly “calm reassurance”—they were more like a full-body tackle powered by love and chaos.
So, Leo flunked out of service school for being a little too happy to see everyone. And honestly? That “failure” turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to both him and Samantha.
From the day he moved in, Leo decided he was going to help Samantha in his own way—no certificates required. His version of “assisting” quickly became a daily comedy show.
You see, Leo has this habit of bringing Samantha random household items, like he’s the world’s most chaotic but well-intentioned butler. Sometimes it’s something useful, like a sock or the TV remote. Other times, it’s something so bizarre she can’t help but laugh.
One day, he proudly marched up with a bottle of foot powder clenched in his teeth, dropped it in front of her, and flopped onto his back—clearly waiting for her to “use” it. Another time, he unpacked her entire suitcase before a trip, then sat beside the open bag like a furry TSA agent waiting for approval.
Samantha says he’s delivered everything from makeup bags to ribbons to completely random receipts she didn’t even remember having. “He just grabs what he thinks I need,” she said, laughing. “Sometimes he’s right. Sometimes… not even close.”
But even when Leo’s “help” creates a mess, Samantha can’t stay mad at him. His heart is so pure it’s impossible to feel anything but joy in his presence.
And honestly, he’s got some professional-level persistence. If Samantha doesn’t immediately acknowledge his “gift,” Leo will gently nudge her arm—over and over—until she gives him a smile or a pat.
That nudge, as it turns out, is one of the few habits from his service training that stuck. He learned to use it to signal that someone might need attention or reassurance. Now, he uses it to say, “Hey, notice me!” or “You look sad, let me fix it with a shoe I found!”
Samantha says that even though he didn’t graduate service school, Leo still seems to understand emotions better than most humans. “He knows when I’m upset,” she explained. “He’ll bring me something, or just rest his head on my knee until I feel better.”
It’s not the kind of structured support he was trained for, but it’s the kind that comes straight from love—and honestly, that’s even better.
Leo had originally been trained to assist people living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
He knew how to sense emotional changes, stay calm during stressful moments, and provide comfort when needed.
He had all the makings of a superhero in a fur coat—except for one tiny detail. He was way, way too enthusiastic about literally everything.
His trainers soon realized that while he had the heart of a service dog, he had the energy of a toddler on espresso.
His greetings weren’t exactly “calm reassurance”—they were more like a full-body tackle powered by love and chaos.
So, Leo flunked out of service school for being a little too happy to see everyone. And honestly? That “failure” turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to both him and Samantha.
From the day he moved in, Leo decided he was going to help Samantha in his own way—no certificates required.
His version of “assisting” quickly became a daily comedy show.
Leo has this habit of bringing Samantha random household items.
Sometimes it’s something useful, like a sock or the TV remote.
Other times, it’s something so bizarre she can’t help but laugh.
One day, he proudly marched up with a bottle of foot powder clenched in his teeth, dropped it in front of her, and flopped onto his back—clearly waiting for her to “use” it.
Another time, he unpacked her entire suitcase before a trip, then sat beside the open bag like a furry TSA agent waiting for approval.
Samantha says he’s delivered everything from makeup bags to ribbons to completely random receipts she didn’t even remember having.
“He just grabs what he thinks I need,” she said, laughing. “Sometimes he’s right. Sometimes… not even close.”
But even when Leo’s “help” creates a mess, Samantha can’t stay mad at him.
His heart is so pure it’s impossible to feel anything but joy in his presence.
If Samantha doesn’t immediately acknowledge his “gift,” Leo will gently nudge her arm—over and over—until she gives him a smile or a pat.
That nudge, as it turns out, is one of the few habits from his service training that stuck.
He learned to use it to signal that someone might need attention or reassurance.
Now, he uses it to say, “Hey, notice me!” or “You look sad, let me fix it with a shoe I found!”
Leo seems to understand emotions better than most humans.
“He knows when I’m upset,” she explained. “He’ll bring me something, or just rest his head on my knee until I feel better.”
While he might not be guiding anyone through PTSD therapy sessions, Leo is absolutely guiding Samantha through everyday life with laughter, affection, and an unshakable bond. “He’s the most loyal, loving companion I’ve ever had,” she said. “And he still tries so hard to be helpful.”
These days, Samantha doesn’t see Leo’s failed certification as a loss. She sees it as fate giving her the perfect dog for her heart, not her resume.
Because when life knocks you down, sometimes what you really need isn’t a perfectly trained helper—it’s a clumsy, happy Labrador who brings you ribbons, foot powder, and unconditional love.
And if that’s what failure looks like, Leo is absolutely nailing it!
Share this article:
