Shih Tzu

The shih tzu comes from palaces — and never for a moment forgets it. For nearly a thousand years it was a living treasure of the Chinese court: bred in the Forbidden City, it basked on silk cushions at the emperors' side, and its name means literally “little lion” — though, let's be honest, all the ferocity of this lion ends at the hairdo. The rulers guarded these little dogs jealously: for centuries not a single one could be taken beyond the palace walls, so the rest of the world only saw the shih tzu at the beginning of the 20th century — like a secret declassified after a thousand years. It's hard to find a dog with better aristocratic credentials. And hard to find a dog that would wear them with more grace.

After those centuries of court life the shih tzu has, you see, reached a simple conclusion: the world divides into places that are comfortable and places that have yet to be made comfortable — ideally with its participation, on your lap. On a walk it moves at the pace of a procession, not because it can't go faster, but because haste is in poor taste. Rainy weather it treats as an obvious calendar error to be waited out at home. Its long, showy coat it wears with the dignity of a star who is evidently owed a regular visit to the hairdresser (and it happens to be right — without grooming that coat quickly turns into a problem). And with those big, dark eyes it can, with a single lift of the brow, communicate that dinner is, in its estimation, running late. New guests it receives at first with polite reserve — as if checking whether they measure up to its company — after which it magnanimously decides that they all do.

But that's not all: the real talent of this breed isn't laziness at all. The shih tzu has a rare ability to raise the standing of ordinary moments. Consider: emperors had literally everything, and in the evenings it was precisely this dog they wanted beside them. Today it does exactly the same for you. You're having a bad day — it appears without a word, settles close, and stays. You're having an ordinary, grey evening — it sits beside you and that evening suddenly begins to taste like something once affordable only to emperors. It needs no tricks for this. It's enough that it's there — with dignity, warmth, and completely.

Here begins the thing most easily overlooked with this breed, because it's easy to confuse with spoiling. The shih tzu is a dog with a genuinely small need for exercise — and therefore for calories. A portion that would keep a dog running around the park in shape will, in this dignified homebody, very quickly result in excess weight. And since it's hard to refuse it when it looks at you with those eyes of its, the excess can creep in entirely unnoticed.

Because the shih tzu won't impress you with speed or tricks — it offers something far rarer: full, undivided presence in a truly royal style. A dog that treats every shared moment as if it were the most important item of court protocol.

Your role is simple: care for its figure, its coat, and those big eyes as attentively as it cares for the splendor of your everyday life. Because the empire fell long ago and the court dispersed, and the shih tzu did the only sensible thing: it moved the capital. And from the day it came to live with you, that capital lies exactly where you are.