Short legs working overtime, royal connections and that famous ‘butt wiggle’: The history of the Corgi
Long, low-slung bodies, short legs working overtime, an unmistakable strut — and, of course, that famous ‘butt wiggle’. That’s right: the corgi.
Few dogs are as instantly recognisable or as consistently charming as the corgi. Low to the ground, but brimming with confidence, they have a habit of winning over even the most hardened dog sceptics. You may not spend quite as much time online as I do, but you will almost certainly have encountered their global appeal: take Winston the corgi (@worldwidewinston), who has amassed close to 600,000 followers documenting his travels testing pet-friendly hotels, restaurants and airlines — with regular appearances at The Lowell and The Connaught.
If you have ever spent time around a corgi puppy (or, indeed, a corgi owner) you will know about the moment their ears ‘pop up’. Puppies are born with soft, floppy ears, and the transition to upright is something of a rite of passage. Typically, this happens between two and six months of age, often during teething, when the cartilage strengthens and the ears rise, sometimes one at a time, sometimes with the occasional, temporary relapse, see below.
One up one down.
Before going any further, it is worth getting one thing straight: there are two distinct types of corgi: the Pembroke Welsh corgi and the Cardigan Welsh corgi (similar at a glance, but with telling differences once you know what to look for). The Cardigan is the older of the two, with roots stretching back as far as 1200 BC, and tends to be slightly larger and longer in body (a sturdier, more ‘workmanlike’ dog). It carries a long, bushy tail and rounded ears, and appears in a wider range of colours such as blue merle and brindle (among the rarer and most striking variations within the breed).
Pembrokes, by contrast, are more compact and ‘foxy’ in expression, with pointed ears and traditionally shorter tails; they are also, broadly speaking, the more outgoing of the pair — sociable, energetic and often described as natural ‘performers’. It is this variety that most people picture when they think of a corgi, thanks in no small part to Elizabeth II. Her lifelong devotion to Pembroke Welsh corgis began with Susan, given to her on her 18th birthday in 1944, and grew into a dynasty spanning more than 30 dogs. They travelled with her, appeared in official photographs and became, in many ways, part of the fabric of the monarchy. For many people, ‘corgi’ means a Pembroke corgi, a perception shaped largely by the late Queen’s patronage.
The Cardigan, by comparison, has remained the quieter sibling, though no less deserving of attention. Longer-backed and longer-tailed (its Welsh nickname, Ci Llatharid, or ‘yard dog’, refers to its length from nose to tail), it possesses the same sharp intelligence and steadfast loyalty, just delivered with a slightly more measured air.
That herding instinct is key to understanding both their temperament and their shape. Corgis were bred as drovers — dogs tasked with moving cattle across long distances — and their low-slung build was an advantage rather than an accident. By keeping close to the ground, they could nip at the heels of cattle and dart out of the way of a retaliatory kick in a split second. Their surprising stamina meant they could cover miles in a day, while their sharp bark helped keep livestock in line. In Wales, they were considered so valuable that laws once set their worth in livestock terms: a good droving dog could be worth far more than an ordinary farm animal. According to Welsh legend, corgis were the preferred mounts of fairies, with faint ‘saddle marks’ said to be visible in the colouring of some coats — something I very much like to believe as truth.
