Ah, the pressures of royalty…

My mom Cathy showed me a news story about Britain’s Prince Harry, the younger son of Princess Diana and Prince Philip.

“When princes and princesses take trips,” she said, “they are supposed to carry out works of charity. They visit people who are sick or disadvantaged. They inspire everyone who sees them. They show their flag.”

OK, mom, what’s your point? I do good things, too.

Today when we were in the dog park, I stood patiently next to people who wanted to give me a good back rub and butt scratch. Ooh, that felt good. But hey, it’s not about me. People feel good when they pat a dog. Their blood pressure drops. I am contributing to the health of our nation’s citizens.

I’m especially good to people on buses. When I’m sitting in my mom’s lap, people come over and talk to me. They rub my head. They tell my mom all about the dogs they owned years ago. Some of those people look like they haven’t had a conversation in ages.

True,. some of the conversations are a little offbeat. My mom just smiles and nods. I sit stoically and say nothing. I never bite anyone, even when they smell like tobacco or booze, which I hate. I never lick anybody. OK, I might give them a good sniff, but my mom pulls me back when I get too close.

And then there are people walking by or sitting on nearby benches, smoking or just drinking coffee. These people almost always need a dog fix. They need to give me a big hug. It’s called two-minute therapy. That’s what I do best.

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