A Prince, a Greyhound, and a Quiet Rebellion: Frederick the Great’s Battle for a Dog

Specifically, an Italian greyhound—slender, quiet, refined. Everything his father, Frederick William I, despised. The Soldier King didn’t do pets. He did marching drills, military regiments, and beating softness out of sons. So when Frederick asked for a dog, the response was exactly what you’d expect: rage.

To the king, dogs were for hunters and soldiers—not for sensitive boys who played flutes and read poetry. A greyhound was practically a provocation. But Frederick persisted. He begged. He pleaded. And finally, thanks to intervention from more diplomatic courtiers, the king relented.

An artist's impression of a young Frederick The Great and his dog

That greyhound became more than a pet—it became a symbol. A loyal companion in a court full of suspicion. A silent protest wrapped in fur and elegance.

Frederick’s love of greyhounds never faded. As king, he surrounded himself with them at Sanssouci, painted them into portraits, and even buried them beside him, refusing burial in the royal crypt. In his own words:

“The only true friends I have in this world are my dogs.”

The boy who once needed permission to love freely found peace in the company of creatures who never demanded he be anything but himself.