Newly-unveiled statue of Queen Elizabeth II includes her beloved pet Corgis

A great deal of people felt sorrow upon Queen Elizabeth II’s passing in 2022. She was adored by the public and the longest-reigning monarch in British history, having ruled for 70 years.

The late queen is now being honored with a monument that was recently unveiled, honoring her affection for her pet corgis!

The Queen’s new statue, together with her dogs

On Sunday, a 7-foot-tall bronze statue of Queen Elizabeth was unveiled in observance of the monarch’s 98th birthday.

In Oakham, England, the sculpture was made by artist Hywel Pratley and is situated close to the Oakham Library. It is Queen Elizabeth’s first ever permanent memorial.

Rutland City Council said that hundreds attended the unveiling. There was music from local school bands and bagpipers.

The most priceless feature of this new memorial is that the queen’s cherished Corgis pet is also depicted, immortalized in bronze by the monarch’s feet:

The city authority claims that local schoolchildren created the designs for the Corgi monuments.

In contrast to the many stern and imposing monuments of queens like Queen Victoria, Pratley stated he wanted the statue to portray the idea of Queen Elizabeth as “an almost motherly figure,” according to the New York Times.

During the unveiling, local dignitary Sarah Furness remarked, “What most of us remember about Queen Elizabeth is her warmth.” “We demonstrate Queen Elizabeth’s humanity by showcasing her affection for dogs.”

The statue’s creator claims that he intended it to be hospitable to onlookers. Pratley said, “We designed it with a bench you can sit on.” “And there’s a corgi you can pet, and I do believe that this will eventually become a selfie-encouraging statue.”

The Times reports that a number of Corgi owners brought their dogs to the unveiling, indicating that a large number of people have already visited the statue.

The history of Queen Elizabeth’s Corgis pet

For many years, the Queen’s corgis were an iconic aspect of her life and a solace during tough political and personal times. Fans all throughout the world were likewise pleased by the cute pets.

The first Corgi was acquired by the royal family in 1933 when Dookie, a dog owned by Elizabeth’s father and predecessor George VI (who was then the Duke of York), was brought home.

Dookie was reportedly extremely cantankerous, yet Elizabeth and him appeared to have a unique relationship.

Then, on her eighteenth birthday, the Queen received a Pembroke Welsh corgi of her own, named Susan.

Susan reportedly slipped under a rug in the royal carriage to disrupt the wedding of the Queen and her husband, Prince Philip, according to the BBC.

1959 saw Susan’s death at the age of almost fifteen. Her epitaph referred to her as “the faithful companion of the Queen,” and she was laid to rest at the royal estate of Sandringham House.

The Queen stated, “I had always feared losing her, but I am ever so thankful that her suffering was so mercifully brief.”

But Susan left quite the legacy; during the ensuing few decades, the Queen accumulated over thirty corgis, all descended from her original canine companion.

The Queen always had at least one corgi, and often had several at once, from 1933 until 2018. She traveled with the dogs in tow, and they resided in a designated “Corgi room” at Buckingham Palace with wicker beds. It is said that the Queen took care of them personally and baked them biscuits over the holiday season.

These canines undoubtedly received royal treatment and grew to represent the Queen throughout her life.

While Elizabeth valued the dogs greatly, Prince Philip apparently didn’t feel the same way. Like many others, she took great solace from the dogs, who served as a link to the simpler times in her early years due to their relationship with her late father and her upbringing.

According to Penny Junor, a royal biographer, “her corgis are hugely important to her.” Over time, they have become more intimate with her than any human has ever been. She has never been let down by the incredibly affectionate and devoted corgis.

It also makes sense that the Queen, who represents both Britain and the United Kingdom, would have a strong bond with a quintessential British dog. Wales, a member of the UK and a neighbor of England, is where corgis first originated. When corgis were adopted as royal dogs, the breed was rare in England; yet, the Queen had a major role in the globalization of the breed.

The Queen owned several “dorgis,” or corgis bred with daschshunds, in addition to purebred Pembroke Welsh Corgis.

When the corgis and dorgis appeared alongside Queen Elizabeth on the cover of Vanity Fair in 2016, they became well-known worldwide because to Annie Leibovitz’s photography. At the time, the dogs were Candy, Vulcan, Willow, and Holly.

A notable aspect of Queen Elizabeth’s reign and a significant aspect of her life were her corgis. Their inclusion in this first memorial statue of her seems so fitting.

Please tell this tale! 

I Found Tiny Childrens Shoes on My Late Husbands Grave Every Time I Visited, Their Secret Changed My Life

When Ellen visits Paul’s grave, seeking solace, she’s puzzled by the sight of children’s shoes resting on his headstone. At first, she dismisses it, assuming it’s a mistake by another grieving family. But as more shoes appear over time, the mystery deepens. Determined to understand, Ellen eventually catches the person responsible—and her life changes in an instant.

The first time I saw the shoes, I thought someone had made a mistake. A small pair of blue sneakers lay beside Paul’s headstone, neatly arranged as if left with intention. I figured a grieving parent had misplaced them. People do strange things when they mourn—I know I did. After Paul passed away in a sudden accident, I spent an entire week making jam that I knew I’d never eat. It was the only thing that made me feel like I was doing something, anything.

But those shoes were different. They didn’t belong, and I moved them aside before placing my flowers by Paul’s grave. It wasn’t until my next visit that I noticed something unusual: there were more shoes. This time, tiny red rain boots. Then, during another visit, I found dark green sneakers. It was too deliberate to be random. And it didn’t make sense. Paul and I never had children. I tried to convince myself it was a mistake—a grieving parent finding comfort in placing shoes at the wrong grave—but deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

As the shoes multiplied with each visit, it felt like an invisible hand was pulling at the fragile threads of peace I had stitched together. Frustrated, I stopped visiting for a while, hoping that by staying away, the shoes would disappear. They didn’t. Instead, they kept coming. When I finally returned, six pairs of children’s shoes stood in a neat row beside Paul’s headstone, like a haunting tribute I couldn’t comprehend.

My sadness turned into anger. Who was doing this? Was this some cruel joke?

Then, one cold morning, I finally saw her. She was crouched beside the grave, gently placing a pair of small brown sandals next to the growing collection. Her long, dark hair swayed in the breeze as she carefully arranged them, her movements slow and purposeful.

“Hey! You!” I yelled, charging toward her, the flowers I had brought slipping from my grasp, forgotten.

She flinched but didn’t run. Instead, she stood slowly, dusting off her coat before turning to face me. That’s when my breath caught in my throat.

It was Maya—Paul’s old secretary. I hadn’t seen her in years, not since she abruptly left her job. She had always been warm and cheerful, but the woman standing before me now seemed burdened with a sorrow I recognized all too well.

“Maya?” I whispered, the disbelief heavy in my voice.

She nodded, her eyes red with unshed tears. Without a word, she reached into her coat pocket and handed me a worn photograph. My hands shook as I took it, my heart pounding in my chest.

It was a picture of Paul, smiling down at a baby boy cradled in his arms.

“His name is Oliver,” Maya said softly. “He’s Paul’s son.”

I stumbled backward, the world spinning as the weight of her words sank in. My husband, the man I thought I knew so well, had lived a secret life—with a child.

“You and Paul were…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

Maya nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I never wanted to hurt you. But after Paul’s accident, Oliver started asking about his dad. I told him Paul was watching over him, and every time Oliver gets a new pair of shoes, he asks me to bring the old ones to his daddy.”

The shoes… they were a child’s way of staying connected to the father he had lost.

I wanted to scream, to demand answers from a man who could no longer give them. But standing there, staring at the shoes left behind by a little boy who would never know his father, I felt my anger start to melt into something else—something softer.

Maya looked at me with guilt etched on her face. “I’ll stop bringing the shoes. I never meant to upset you.”

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