Lhasa Apso

Trust is earned slowly around here, guarding, not greeting, is the family trade. I'll watch you for a good while before I decide you're allowed near the good cushions. Patience is the entry fee.

My coat is long and flowing and mostly there to hide the fact that I'm quietly assessing everyone who walks in. I don't warm up to strangers fast, this is a feature carried down from actual monastery duty. Once you're in, though, you're properly in.

My eyes need regular checking, the long coat and flat-ish face both put them at risk, so keep hair trimmed away from them. I can be genuinely wary of unfamiliar people, so early socialisation matters more for me than most breeds. The suspicion is bred in, not personal, mostly.

You don't expect instant affection from a dog literally built to be discerning. You keep my coat brushed and my eyes checked regularly. And you understand that when I finally trust you, it means something.

Tibetan monasteries used my ancestors as indoor sentries while bigger dogs guarded outside. I've never once let that job title go to my head. Actually, I have, constantly.

Swipe right. I'm watchful, dignified, and taking my time deciding about you.