Hello. Hi. Greetings. It’s me. Fylo.
I’ve been waiting what feels like an actual lifetime to officially introduce myself. Like, I’ve aged emotionally. The idea of having my very own family—forever—has been living rent-free in my head, and honestly? I’m thrilled. Delighted. Practically vibrating. Allow me to explain why I am, objectively, a catch. I am a happy-go-lucky, wildly smart boy with a very gentle soul. I’m the kind of dog who reads the room, reads your mood, and then politely inserts myself directly into whatever you’re doing because obviously I belong there. Cooking? I supervise. Watching TV? I cuddle. Walking to the other room? I’m already coming with you. I just like being part of the action. Any action. Even boring ones. I’m extremely submissive with people and other dogs. I’m not here to cause drama—I’m here to make friends, earn praise, and maybe get told I’m a good boy approximately 47 times a day. I love to please. I adore playtime, but I also adore connection. I’m smart in that “quietly observing and learning” way, not the “chaos goblin” way. I want to do things right. I want to belong. I want a family that looks at me and says, “Yep. That’s our dog.” Preferably while scratching my ears. and telling me yet again what a good boy I am. So here I am. Waiting patiently. Casually imagining us together. Not to be dramatic, but I’m pretty sure I already love you.
Let me fill in the origin story portion of my you should totally adopt me résumé. I am a 9-month-old, 55-lb male lab mix, possibly sprinkled with some Pyrenees and maybe even a dash of Golden because genetics said, “Let’s just make him extra lovable.” Big enough to feel substantial, young enough to still be figuring things out, and built for cuddles, companionship, and following you from room to room like it’s my job. I came into rescue after I was abandoned—aka very rudely dumped—in the middle of nowhere. Like… no Starbucks, no neighbors, just vibes. I did what any reasonable, emotionally intelligent dog would do: I wandered up to someone’s porch, decided immediately that I loved them, and repeatedly attempted to move in. They couldn’t keep me, but they made sure I was safe on their porch while trying to figure out what to do. Enter: an awesome human who spread the word, helped with transport, and basically said, “No sir, you will not be left behind.” Because of her—and a whole lot of teamwork—I officially became part of PPFT’s Fluffy Butt Program, which I believe is the most elite club I have ever joined. Despite my rough start, I somehow came out the other side still ridiculously happy, trusting, and obsessed with people. I love humans. All of them. Immediately. If you give me attention, I will assume we are best friends now and act accordingly. I’m gentle, eager, submissive, and very much a “please tell me I’m doing a good job” kind of guy. I don’t want to run the household—I want to belong in it.
Ah yes. Let’s talk about my social life, because it is both hopeful and deeply humbling. I love other dogs. Like, deeply. Emotionally. Aspirationally. I am very much a “please play with me, I brought my whole heart and my best hops” kind of guy. We have two smaller dogs here who, unfortunately, have chosen the lifestyle of grouchy elders. They are snippy. They are unimpressed. They are not here for my joy. And me? I respond by being extremely submissive, but still hoping that maybe one day they will say yes. Now… the Pyr.
Oh. The Pyr. She is my muse. I try so hard to get her to play with me. I do these incredible little popcorn jumps around her—truly Olympic-level effort—while she simply stands there and stares at me like a stone statue who has seen too much. Does this stop me? No. Because hope is a powerful thing and I am nothing if not optimistic. I would love love love a doggy playmate. A friend. A partner in crime. Someone who sees my play bows and says, “Yes, absolutely.” I will try my luck politely, but I don’t push. If another dog isn’t interested, I respect that and move on like a mature adult. But if they are interested? Best day of my life. Instant happiness. Core memory unlocked. A playful dog friend would help me burn energy and, frankly, would probably make me the happiest dog on earth. Not a requirement—but wow, would it be a dream. Ah yes. The cats. Let’s talk about my personal growth journey. I do very well with cats. Zero aggression.Early on, if they ran, I chased. Not in a villain way—more in a “wait for me, new friend, we are clearly doing parkour together” way. The cats were… unconvinced. Over time, I’ve learned that cats are not, in fact, dogs in tiny fur coats. They have boundaries. Strong ones. Sharp ones.I’ve gotten much better (and honestly, so have they now that they’re used to me). These days, we mostly coexist like polite roommates who don’t borrow each other’s stuff. Occasionally, if a cat darts right past me, I still feel the urge to engage—old habits die hard—but I take correction easily and reset like, “Ah yes. Forgot. Not a game.” I have not officially been around kids yet, so this is more of a professional assessment based on my personality and physics. I think I would be an excellent friend to older kiddos—the kind who want a buddy, a sidekick, someone to play with, hang out with, and receive unwavering loyalty from. I am gentle, sweet, and very invested in my people. Big fan of companionship. Five stars. Now. Toddlers. Look. I love everyone. But when I get excited, my entire body gets involved. I don’t just wag my tail—I wag my whole self. There is enthusiasm. There is momentum. There is occasional unintentional hip-checking. I am not trying to knock anyone over, but physics is a cruel mistress and I am 55 pounds of joy. Also, when I’m really excited, I can get a little mouthy—not rude, not aggressive, just that classic “I forgot my manners because my feelings are too big” situation. I’ve gotten much better about this, truly. But sometimes, during peak excitement, my brain briefly powers down, and I forget that humans prefer less teeth involvement.
Let’s talk about my energy level, because I feel like this is important for expectations and also my personal brand. On a very official scale of 1 to 10, I am a solid 6. Yes, I still have puppy energy. I am nine months old. That part is non-negotiable. HOWEVER—please note how impressively I have settled into a quieter routine. I will entertain myself with toys like an independent king. When I start feeling a little extra spicy, I do a few laps around the couch with a toy like it’s NASCAR. Usually, my human lets me outside to play and run for a bit, I get it out of my system, and then I come back inside and return to being perfectly reasonable. If I had another playful dog in the house? Honestly? This would be a non-issue. I would happily outsource my energy to a canine friend and call it a day. I’m not super high-energy, I just really enjoy playtime. A few walks a day, some engagement, maybe a toy or two—and I am fully content, emotionally fulfilled, and ready to chill. Basically, I’m fun and manageable. A rare combo. You’re welcome. Let’s address my lifestyle preferences, because I am extremely flexible and emotionally available. I would love going places with my people. Hikes? Sign me up. Cafés? I will sit there politely and pretend I understand coffee culture. Running errands? I am content simply existing near you. Wherever my people are, that’s where I’m happiest. Location is irrelevant. Proximity is everything. That said, if there’s another playful dog at home or enough stimulation to keep my brain busy, I am perfectly fine being a stay-at-home gentleman. I don’t need constant outings to feel fulfilled. I just need inclusion. Let me be part of the plan. Even if the plan is “do nothing.” Water activities? Unknown. It is currently far too cold to have the puppy pool set up, and frankly, I refuse to form opinions under unfair weather conditions. Ask me again when it’s not basically arctic tundra. Thank you. Now. Toys. Yes. Yes. And yes again. I love toys. All toys. Every toy. If it exists and is meant for dogs, I would like to try it immediately. I will run around proudly carrying toys like trophies. I will toss them into the air for my own entertainment. I will play light fetch with you (no promises on the return rate, but the effort is there). I will happily chew on hooves and bones like it’s my full-time job.
Let’s talk about housing requirements, because I am nothing if not adaptable. Preference? A fenced-in yard. I do enjoy running around, playing with toys, and having space to get my zooms out without anyone clutching their pearls. Now, if you don’t have a fence but you do have an active lifestyle? I can work with that. Walks, adventures, engagement, outings—I am willing to adapt. I’m not the kind of dog who melts down without a yard as long as my needs are met and I’m included in the fun. Am I potty trained? Yes.y the second day, actually. I was already pawing at the door when I needed to go out, like a true professional who understands communication is key. Have I chewed on anything I shouldn’t? No. Now—is the house puppy-proofed? Yes. Absolutely. Because I am still a puppy and my foster parents are smart humans who believe in setting me up for success. Teamwork. So while the environment has been curated to support my continued excellence, I have personally chosen to make good choices. And I’d like that noted in my file. I am an alert barker. If I hear something, I will inform you. If the other dogs bark, I will join the meeting. This is called communication and team participation. Now, I may take a minute to settle once I’ve decided an announcement is necessary. The key here is approach. If you come over to me, acknowledge my very important concerns, and calmly tell me it’s okay? I’m good. Message received. Situation resolved. If you yell “quiet” from across the room? Incorrect. That just tells me you are also barking now, and obviously this means we are now barking together. I will continue for a bit. Once I know all is well, I happily stand down.
And now, the part where I very casually convince you that your life would be objectively better with me in it. I am smart. I am gentle. I am ridiculously affectionate. I am potty trained, toy-loving, dog-friendly, people-obsessed, and emotionally prepared to be your forever shadow. So if you’re reading this thinking, “Wow, this dog sounds suspiciously perfect for me,” congratulations—you are correct.
Now comes the responsible adult part: you’ll need to fill out an adoption application at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app so the nice humans can send it to my foster family and make sure we’re a good match. Paperwork first, cuddles immediately after. I will then require you to pick me up in Sedalia, MO, where I will be waiting patiently (lying) and pretending I’m not already planning our entire future together.
Apply. Do the thing.
I’m ready when you are.
Signed,
Fylo
Certified good boy and future best decision you ever made 🐾
