I must admit it’s pretty neat to watch the British with all their pomp and circumstance.

Fact is, I’ve always had a fascination with everything the Brits do with flair. I have always liked the music of Sir Edward Elgar, Ralph Vaughan Williams, Gustav Holst and even Kenneth Alford, England’s answer to John Philip Sousa. Oh yes, and of course there were The Beatles, and what they did for music.

To this day, I don’t think there are better patriotic songs that they sing in England such as “I Vow to Thee, My Country” and William Blake’s “Jerusalem,” a poem set to music by Hubert Parry, which is usually sung at Royal weddings, and at the conclusion of the BBC’s “Last Night of the Proms.”

Maybe it’s because a friend of mine who likes to do genealogy helped me find that my great grandfather (on my mother’s side) came from Ireland, and somewhere along the branches of that family tree they tell me that a great-great aunt (or something like that) even had some sort of a tie to one of the Royal houses. We can’t find out for sure what she did, but heck, it gives me something I can talk about.

I have to admit though, I didn’t really think much about a real connection with Great Britain until my wife and I adopted our first Welsh corgi.

Whenever I would take Freddie for a walk back then, people would all stop to check him out.

“That’s a Queen Elizabeth dog,” people would say. “She’s known for all her corgis.”

I did some checking, and sure enough Her Majesty has had her fair share of these dogs. I must say, it’s kind of cool to share at least something with the Queen and her Diamond Jubilee.

Freddie has since passed, at the ripe old age of 13, and since his time, we have had Mousie, who has also crossed the Rainbow Bridge. We miss them terribly, but with our family now are Pete, Susie and Wilson (a corgi we rescued from a puppy mill), and they continue to be our connection with Her Highness.

Fact is, I don’t think we’ll ever have another kind of dog other than a Pembroke Welsh Corgi.

By way of description, the Pembroke is a cousin of the Cardigan Welsh Corgi. The Cardigans have tails. The Pembrokes don’t.

The legend is that the Welsh farmers, who used corgis to herd their sheep and cattle, were taxed based on the length of their dogs’ tails. Their solution was to dock the tails at birth.

Other than maybe claiming you are on the Queen’s guest list for the next Royal reception at Buckingham Palace, the best thing about owning corgis is their demeanor. If you like a big dog personality in a small dog’s body, by all means, get a corgi. They’re smart, they can be stubborn and if you’re a young guy, they’re a heck of a chick magnet.

I read the other day in the British press that demand is high all over the Kingdom to own a corgi. Breeders are selling them at top dollar (or pound).

For at least one time in our lives, the Bugaile family finally has something part of the latest trend.

I’m really looking forward to watching the rest of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee celebration. I'm also looking forward to the Olympics this summer. The corgis and I will be watching.

I’m even thinking about sending Her Majesty a “best wishes” greeting from Pete, Susie and Wilson. I’ll deck them out in "Union Jack" colours.

Maybe we’ll even get an invitation to come and visit for tea. And, Royal Milk Bones of course!

Share your corgi experiences! Tell us in the comments.