Tibetan Mastiff [🔶]

The breeder led me to a wooden pen, and for a moment I was speechless. What he called "month-old puppies" looked more like a litter of small, plump bear cubs. They were clumsily romping in the straw, rolling on each other, squeaking, and chasing their own tails. All except one.
In the far corner of the enclosure, separated from the noisy group of siblings, sat a single puppy. Even then, he stood confidently on his four thick, disproportionately large paws. His fur was a bright, rich, fiery red, and on his chest stood out a neat white spot, resembling a young crescent moon. Around his tiny neck, the beginnings of a thick, lion-like mane were already beginning.
While the other puppies rushed toward my boots, begging for affection, this ginger-haired little fellow sat motionless. His face was serious and wrinkled, and his dark brown eyes looked at me with a calm, appraising calm that was not at all childish.

• This one is special, -
  The breeder chuckled into his mustache, noticing my gaze.
  — Proud. He doesn't go to anyone himself. A true Tibetan.
  I smiled and slowly crouched down right in front of the pen, holding out my hand, palm up. The puppy's small, triangular ears twitched. He wasn't scared or ran away, squealing. Instead, he slowly, comically waddling on his thick paws, approached my hand. A short, comical, but very earnest growl erupted from his mouth—he was trying to appear menacingly protective. And then he noisily nuzzled my palm with his wet, black nose.
  At that moment I realized that I would not leave here without him.
• Well, hello, baby, -
  I whispered, carefully picking up this heavy, warm red lump in my arms.
  "Your home is now with me. I will name you Tibet."
  As a puppy, he snuggled trustingly against my shoulder, snoring softly. Little did I know then that this fluffy little thing would grow into a huge, loyal, eighty-kilogram lion, ready to protect me until his last breath.