Now I have to be honest - I couldn't have done it myself. My sister Coco, a feisty runt of a sheila if I ever knew one, has assumed airs and graces unbecoming a Chessie - but of which I am sneakily proud.
It turns out she was invited to represent the famous messenger dogs of war at the Bersheeba centenary commemorations in Hobart - this in honour of the famous charge of the 4th Light Horse on October 31, 1917 in present-day Israel, that turned the tide against the Ottomans in the First World War.
While the Charge of Bersheeba was all about the horses (they were pretty keen for a drink, by all accounts, after a few days without water in the desert) they had their trusty messenger dogs as well.
Around 20,000 dogs were used by the Allies in WW I, often as sentries and sniffer dogs as well as messenger dogs navigating the trenches and passing on messages in the heat of battle. They were mostly trained at a special dog school in Hampshire.
I would have been good at that, of course - I like guns going off. It means there's some action.
So does Coco. The fine lady dressed in the costume of a WW I nurse who took Coco to the Cenotaph said Coco thought all her Christmases had come at once when the artillery went off - she's a duck dog, like me, and would have been looking around for really huge birds.
Somehow she maintained a bit of dignity, though - here she is helping to lay the flowers and pay her respects. The Boss says it's not the sort of thing I could have done - I would have had to sniff all the flowers before peeing on them, he reckons.
That's a bit harsh. He's never taken me out to anything grand like this and I am sure I could rise to the occasion. I mean, I love a little bit of attention. Particularly a lot. Look at this here - Coco getting fussed over by a bunch of important people. The Governor was there, members of parliament...it's not fair.
And here she is looking like it's something that happens every day! I have to wonder if she's forgotten me altogether now she's mixing it with royalty. She even has her own portrait photographer, capturing her in solemn moments.
When I see her next I'll need to roll her over, give her a nip and remind her of who she really is. Woof!