King Harry is a big dog. He looks like a king, even if he is quite old. His coat is dark chocolate brown as he is a chocolate Labrador. (It doesn’t mean he is made of chocolate, that is his colour; he is made of dog).
I meet him often as he strolls around the parklands near his palace in Hilliard Park.
He is often in the company of the Duke and Duchess of Hilliard, who are his Lord and Lady in Waiting.
Even though he is a king, Harry doesn’t wear a crown or fancy robes like some other dogs. He is cool and casual.
When I meet him, I greet him in siSwati, and he understands everything I say, which is weird as he is Australian, but then kings are special.
King Harry is getting on in age, but he still has a twinkle in his eye, especially when he meets Miss Lulu, who is Schnauzer who wants to be a ballerina. He will even roll in the grass in some places, to show that he is just an ordinary person, groaning softly, squirming and grinning.
Talking of grinning, King Harry is a grinner; he always has at least a smile on his face. I believe he is a happy dog.
When he walks, without a leash of course because he is a King and well behaved, he has a languid step, never hurrying. He strolls sedately and politely greets everyone who he meets. They all feel honored by his attention and bow and wait until he approaches them before they speak.
Mind you, he will sometimes put on a leash to show other dogs that he is on their side. He hasn’t actually said that people should be on leads not dogs, but I think he thinks so.
If he is feeling particularly happy and his gout isn’t troubling him he will even indulge in a frisky caper, a little dance to encourage the young people who gaze at him adoringly.
It is so nice to know that we have a king living nearby.