My name is Churro!

🚨 ATTENTION: PERSONAL SPACE VIOLATION INCOMING 🚨

If you're looking for a dog who respects boundaries, personal bubbles, or the general laws of physics... well, keep looking. Churro is what happens when you mix a giant teddy bear with the social boundaries of a golden retriever puppy. He’s goofy. He’s charming. He’s absolutely convinced your face is a valid target for affection, and that the sofa is simply a throne for him and his human peasants to share. Expect close-up snuggles, mid-conversation nose boops, and the occasional surprise body slam of affection. He's basically a living, breathing reminder that size is just a number—and he refuses to acknowledge his. Apply now to adopt this loveable oversized lapdog. But fair warning: your concept of "alone time" will be permanently revoked.

Churro came to us after he somehow ended up in a shelter. I know—I’ll give you a moment to emotionally recover from the image of a giant, lovable teddy bear sitting behind bars. What has the world come to when even walking marshmallows like Churro are homeless? The shelter said he was about 1.5 years old. We, however, took one look at his classic Pyr helmet head and said, “Hmm… that’s a puppy noggin if we’ve ever seen one.” So realistically, he’s probably somewhere closer to 8-10 months. Let’s just split the difference and say he’s…a certified adolescent. Age is a construct anyway. He clocks in at 58lbs and is believed to be a Pyr/Golden mix—which means he’s got the heart of a guardian, the soul of a golden retriever, and the spatial awareness of a sleepy walrus trying to share a loveseat.

Churro isn’t exactly the guy doing keg stands at the dog park. When he met Raya, he played it cool—too cool. Think more “undercover boss at the office party” than “life of the party.” He’s cautious in new places and around new dogs, like he’s waiting to make sure no one’s about to prank him. But give him a minute (or ten), and he warms up, realizes no one’s out to get him, and then—bam—he’s got a new dog BFF to romp around with. As for cats—he’s curious, gave a single bark of “what is that?” but hasn’t plotted their downfall yet. He mostly watches them with the quiet confusion of someone trying to understand TikTok. So far, no drama. We’ll call that a win. When it comes to kids, Churro is basically a snuggly wrecking ball of affection. He loves them, truly—but he also thinks the best way to bond is by becoming one with your personal space. Sitting on your lap, breathing in your face, maybe knocking over your juice box in the process—it’s all part of the charm. New people? He’s reserved but gentle, accepting pets with the quiet enthusiasm of someone who’s just been offered free samples. He won’t bulldoze you with excitement, but give him a moment and he’ll lean in like you’ve been best friends forever. Basically, he’s a sweet, oversized baby learning how to be brave in a world that’s still a little big and weird.

Churro clocks in at a solid 7 out of 10 on the energy scale—which, if we had to assign him a spirit animal combo, would be somewhere between a caffeinated llama and a toddler who found the Halloween candy stash. He’s got just enough zoom to keep things interesting, but not so much that you’ll need to cancel your Netflix subscription or take up jogging. As a road trip buddy, Churro is your classic chill co-pilot. He’s not trying to drive the car or hang out the window like a windswept lunatic—he’s just along for the ride, probably hoping the final destination includes snacks and someone to tell him he’s a good boy. When he first came to us, he had the emotional energy of someone who’d just been ghosted, but now? Now he’s all smiles and tail wags like the heartbreak never happened. On leash, the dude’s a straight-up gold medalist. You know that rare unicorn of a dog that doesn’t drag you through your own neighborhood like you’re training for a CrossFit competition? That’s Churro. He walks like he’s been doing it for years—heck, he even lets an 8-year-old handle the leash. Just don’t toss him into an unfamiliar place and expect him to immediately lead the neighborhood parade. Give him a minute, he likes to get the lay of the land before committing to public appearances. When it comes to indoor vs. outdoor life, Churro doesn’t pick sides—he’s basically Ariel from The Little Mermaid: “I wanna be where the people are…” He’ll follow you inside, outside, upside-down if it means being near his humans. When the kids go to bed? He complains about it. Loudly. Because how dare they go off and snuggle up in bed without him? Temperament-wise, he’s a sweet, oversized goof with the self-awareness of a decorative pillow. He will try to sit in your lap. He will get in your face like he’s offering unsolicited skincare tips. He doesn’t understand personal space because, to him, all space is Churro space. That said, he’s gentle, polite, and has the kind of soft-souled energy that would make him a hit in a retirement home or with any human in need of a fluffy therapist. As for hobbies? He’s a casual backyard sprinter with a passion for bird-watching and wrestling with his foster sister Raya. Toys? Meh. He prefers a good chew and some fresh air over chasing something you clearly threw away on purpose. Why would he bring it back? And yes, Churro would like a fenced yard. He’s not asking for Yellowstone National Park, just enough turf to gallop dramatically and then collapse in the grass like a majestic potato. Apartment life? Maybe not. He needs space to run—and a place to collapse in theatrical fashion afterward. In short: Churro is the full package—if the package is oversized, slightly clingy, full of fluff, and comes with no concept of personal boundaries.

Shockingly, Churro seems to be potty trained. We know—it’s wild. A giant teenage fluff with working bathroom manners? It’s practically a unicorn situation. As for the kennel—Churro treats it like a suspicious Airbnb. He’s not totally sold when you ask him to go in (cue slow-motion sad eyes and dramatic hesitation), but once he’s in? He’s out cold. Churro is still very much a puppy—which means he's still figuring out what is and is not edible. So far, he’s only committed two minor sock crimes, but let’s not test fate. While he’s not actively seeking destruction, he is at that stage where puppy-proofing your home is highly recommended. Churro isn’t exactly running for Chief of the Neighborhood Bark Patrol, but he will speak up when prompted—usually by his partner-in-crime, Raya. If she sounds the alarm, he’s not about to be left out of the drama. Consider him the backup vocalist in your home’s barking duo. He’ll give a shout if he hears something suspicious, sees something weird, or—most importantly—if you have the audacity to leave him outside longer than he deems acceptable. That bark? It’s less “panic” and more “excuse me, peasant, I’ve had enough nature, thank you.”

So, if you're ready to surrender your personal space, share your snacks, and be lovingly yelled at from the backyard when you dare close the door without him—Churro might just be your soulmate.
Think you're up for the challenge? Fantastic. Fill out that adoption application like your future happiness depends on it (because, let’s be honest, it probably does). Just know: you'll need to make the noble pilgrimage to Okarche, OK to collect your new best friend. We do not offer shipping, teleportation, or carrier pigeon delivery. You want this snuggly land hippo? You come get him.