Cavapoo

Someone who thinks a big night in beats a big night out. I'll follow you to the kitchen, the bathroom, and technically once into the shower. Boundaries are a Poodle problem, not a Cavalier one.

I'm smart enough to learn any trick and lazy enough to only bother for treats. I don't shed, so your black jeans are safe. My heart isn't, I fall for you roughly four minutes in.

My Cavalier side carries a real risk of a heart condition called mitral valve disease, so ask for the cardiac screening before you fall for this face, which you'll anyway. My coat mats if you skip brushing for a week, but in my defence, I was very busy being irresistible.

You think a perfect Sunday is a sofa, a blanket, and zero plans. Walkies are, to me, a light suggestion rather than a demand. And you're prepared to be watched eating dinner with the focus of a Victorian portrait painter.

I can hear a treat bag open from two rooms away, through a closed door. Scientists haven't explained this. I've chosen not to either.

Swipe right. I'm soft, a little dramatic, and extremely committed to being near you at all times.