Pekingese

I won't be hurried, not for walks, not for anything, my pace is the pace. I carry myself like actual palace royalty because that's, historically, accurate. Match my speed or walk ahead alone.

I've got a mane, a waddle, and the unshakeable confidence of a much larger animal. I was literally called the Lion Dog and I've taken that branding seriously ever since. Stubborn doesn't begin to cover it.

My flat face makes breathing and heat genuinely hard work, so walks stay short and cool, never midday. My back can be delicate too, so stairs and jumps need supervision. The lion attitude is real, the actual lion toughness, unfortunately, is not.

You accept my pace as final and don't try to rush a dog literally named after a lion. You keep walks short and the temperature managed carefully. And you find stubbornness endearing rather than exhausting, because it's not changing.

Chinese emperors reportedly kept dogs of my type in their sleeves. I haven't fit in a sleeve for generations. I haven't adjusted the ego accordingly.

Swipe right. I'm stubborn, dignified, and moving at exactly one speed.