Meet Bob. He radiates “grandma’s-favorite-afghan” energy: the kind of cozy presence that settles onto your lap, sighs dramatically, and suddenly you’re like, ah yes, this is exactly what my soul needed. Bob is the type of dog who could happily live out his days in a nursing home, rotating from lap to lap like a soft, smiling therapy cloud. And yes — he’ll flash that adorable grin...every time, just to make sure your heart grows three sizes.
At 12 years old and weighing in at a very portable 19 pounds, Bob is a tiny, gentleman-shaped warm hug. He came to us through no fault of his own—life threw him a heartbreak he absolutely didn’t deserve. Bob’s beloved owner passed away, and he and his friend Theola ended up in the shelter, held with hope that family would come for them. No one ever did, and it wasn’t even clear if any next of kin existed. So the shelter staff did what they could, and then asked us for help. When Bob arrived, he was matted, uncomfortable, and dealing with both skin and ear infections. But now? He’s been treated, he’s on meds, and every day he looks and feels more like the soft, soothing soul he truly is.
When it comes to other dogs, Bob is… unimpressed. He’s not here to make friends, start a revolution, or join anyone’s weird group Zoomies Session 2025. He met the whole canine cast and showed absolutely zero aggression—but also zero interest. He is the poster child for dog indifferent. Cats? Bob would likely treat them exactly the same way he treats dogs: share the space, don’t start drama, don’t join drama, and absolutely do not acknowledge drama. As for tiny humans, Bob is a senior citizen with senior citizen opinions. He prefers a home with calm energy—the ambiance of a quiet Sunday morning, not a Chuck E. Cheese birthday party. He’ll be fine with respectful kids once he knows them, but he may initially greet younger visitors with a few barks, which is his polite way of saying, “You startled me, small loud creature.” Babies or toddlers? Hard pass. Let’s not put this gentle old man through that emotional journey. When meeting new adults, Bob is dignified and polite, like a grandpa who still wears button-up shirts “just because.” He’ll accept gentle pets with grace, but he does expect the same level of respect in return. He is not here for chaotic energy, sudden movements, or being treated like a fuzzy wind-up toy. Bob is a gentleman—please act accordingly.
Bob operates at an energy level of approximately “2,” which is impressive only because the number “1” already belongs to sloths, retired librarians, and that one houseplant you’re not totally sure is still alive. The only reason he doesn’t dip lower on the scale is because evening strolls are his pride and joy. The man LOVES his evening walks. He trots around like he’s competing in a senior citizen beauty pageant—chin up, ears perked, showing off his freshly groomed self like, “Yes, gaze upon me… I am majestic.” And when he’s not busy being the runway model of sunset sidewalks? He’s following his person around the house with the subtlety of a toddler who thinks disappearing behind a curtain makes them invisible. Just a touch needy, but in an endearing, “please don’t stop loving me” sort of way. Now, adventure-wise, Bob has retired from his mountain-climbing, marathon-running, thrill-seeking era—if that era ever existed. He is absolutely a homebody at heart. But don’t get it twisted: he would LOVE to be your constant companion. Coffee shops? Sure. Car rides? His favorite. He will sit quietly wherever you go, adding a soundtrack of tiny snores that somehow make everything feel cozier. His lifestyle now is less “let’s climb a glacier” and more “let’s sit together and judge people at Target.” Honestly, a mood. Bob’s overall vibe is calm, gentle, sweet, and very ready to become the resident therapy dog of someone’s home. Truly, he could live in a nursing home drifting from lap to lap like a mobile cuddle service and be perfectly happy. His smile should be classified as medicinal. He’s the fuzzy antidepressant Big Pharma doesn’t want you to know about. Favorite activities? Chair. That’s it. Chair. If he can sit next to you in a chair while you watch TV or read, he is living his best possible life. His second favorite activity is prancing around the neighborhood during his daily walks. That’s the whole personality. Snooze and stroll. A simple king. As for living arrangements, Bob does NOT require a yard worthy of a wolf pack. A small space is fine because he goes outside solely to handle business and then immediately clocks out. The only minor concern in apartment life is that Bob does not enjoy being left. He’ll whine and bark a bit when his person leaves—he does settle down but if someone lives next door to you and likes to complain about everything than Bob sadly may not be the best match.
Bob is proudly, confidently, and wholeheartedly potty trained—because at his distinguished age, he considers indoor accidents a rookie mistake. Kenneling? Don’t even bother. Bob has informed us that he is far too mature, refined, and emotionally stable to be confined like some sort of common toddler. Chewing things he shouldn’t? Causing mischief? Launching himself over fences like an Olympic athlete? Absolutely not. At this point in life, Bob is far too busy being wholesome and adorable to be problematic. He does not chew, he does not dig, he does not steal snacks, and he does not attempt any daring escapes. He’s not an adrenaline junkie—he’s an elder millennial trapped in a dog body who just wants comfort, stability, and a steady snack schedule. And if there’s one thing a future adopter absolutely must know, it’s this: Bob is pure love wrapped in fur. You can brush him, trim his nails, clean his ears—he’ll take it all with the serenity of a tiny monk. Bob isn’t high-maintenance. He’s heart-maintenance.
So if you’ve been dreaming of a tiny, soft, emotionally supportive grandpa who will follow you around like your own fluffy retirement-age entourage…Bob is waiting for you. If your heart is already whispering, “Okay… fine… I love him,” then it’s time to make it official. Fill out an adoption application at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app so we can pass it along to his foster family and get ready to pick this senior cinnamon roll up in Broken Arrow, OK.
Go ahead. Adopt Bob. You deserve a dog this comforting… and Bob deserves someone who understands that he’s basically living, breathing emotional support mashed potatoes.
