The Queen's Corgi

The next thing I remember was opening my eyes to find myself looking into what could have been a mirror, but was none other than Jasper—my same-litter oldest brother! He now occupied the kennel beside mine, which had been empty when I’d arrived.

‘Never thought I’d see you again, Number Five!’ He extended his tongue between the bars of our cages. My eyelids were so heavy, I had to close them again. As I did, I felt his warm lick and scent—along with a rush of recognition.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked drowsily. I felt a sense of deep peace. I was being greeted by a much-loved being from the distant past. Was this the fabled Rainbow Bridge? Had I crossed to the place they called ‘the other side’?

I was mulling over this dreamily, when Jasper said, ‘You’ve been fixed.’

At the time, the word ‘fixed’ meant nothing to me.

‘Both of us have,’ he continued. ‘Same day. Same vet. What are the chances?’

It took all my energy to blink my eyes open again. ‘Fixed?’ I asked. ‘What’s that?’

‘Fixed? Neutered. Desexed. Castrated. Had your balls chopped off?’

‘Doesn’t sound good,’ I mused.

‘Depends.’ His tone was sanguine. ‘It can get rid of an unwanted distraction.’

Just as I remembered, my brother still had a reassuring air about him. The last time I had seen Jasper, he was at the end of a lead being taken to the park by Mrs Grimsley. I also remembered the special bond that had grown up between us in those final few days we’d spent together. I recalled how it had been Jasper, more than anyone, who had taken my mind off the constant threat of the shed. His amiable presence had been deeply reassuring then, just as it was now that we were both older.

After a while, he cocked his head and focused on me with a mischievous expression. ‘Was it something in particular that brought you here, Number Five? Misbehaving at home?’

Perhaps it was the anaesthetic that blurred my short-term memory. ‘Oh, no,’ I told him, with sleepy confidence. ‘Very well-behaved.’

‘You sure?’ He seemed unconvinced. ‘You haven’t been jumping on other dogs? Dry-humping anyone?’

Oh! No sooner had he mentioned it, the image of the drawing room at Highgrove came to mind. The Prince of Wales’ visitor with the tempting little vixen beside him on the sofa. The regrettable incident. Charles’ pointed arm and red face and my disgraced retreat. So that was why I had been taken to the vet!

But how did Jasper know?

‘Humans don’t like it,’ he continued. ‘Especially the posh ones like yours.’

Starting to feel more properly awake, I wondered how he seemed to know so much about me. ‘Why are you so perky?’

‘I’ve had half an hour longer in recovery than you. You’ll also be wide awake soon.’ He shifted his body to one side. ‘If somewhat tender.’

Suddenly his ears pricked and his eyes were bright with interest. ‘So tell me, are you really the Queen’s favourite corgi?’

‘It’s not like that,’ I told him. ‘There’s also Winston and Margaret.’

‘Do you live at Buckingham Palace?’

‘Part of the time.’

I could tell that he wanted to know more—but I had questions of my own. ‘How do you know about me?

‘It’s all over the Kennel Club!’ he said. ‘Ever since you joined the royal family, the Grimsleys haven’t stopped talking about it. Desdemona is a show corgi who belongs to my family’s cousins. She comes back from meetings full of stories.’

‘Like?’

‘Like how the Grimsleys now transport their corgis in red and gold carriers, put them in red and gold collars and show them with red and gold leashes. How Mrs Grimsley wears gloves and hats like the Queen and, when they arrive at Kennel Club meetings, she waves at people like she’s in the royal carriage on her way to Westminster Abbey. They’ve become very hoity-toity,’ said Jasper, ‘since they got the Royal Warrant.’

Still feeling somewhat woozy, I wondered if I’d heard him correctly. ‘Warrant?’

‘Desdemona says they have the coat of arms plastered all over the place. They even have a car pennant.’

‘But . . . there is no warrant,’ I told him.