Size
(when grown) X-Large 101 lbs (46 kg) or more
Details
Good with kids,
Good with dogs,
Good with cats,
Spayed or Neutered,
Shots are up-to-date,
Story
Introducing Miko. Apparently, someone ordered a black-and-tan teddy bear, selected the deluxe fluff package, and then accidentally installed the legs from a runway model. This 10.5-year-old, 80lb male Great Pyrenees/Rough Collie mix has legs for DAYS. At his age, he should be living the good life and being spoiled beyond measure. After all, he is one of the BESTEST boys around. And yes, we know...all you grammatical peeps are cringing, but trust us...BESTEST was absolutely necessary to describe Miko, and you are about to find out why.
👉 Apply to adopt at:
https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app
📍 Sand Springs, OK — approved adopters must pick me up in person. No transports
Unfortunately, Miko’s retirement plan was handled by people we would not trust to supervise a plastic fern. We first met this boy over six years ago, when he came through our rescue and was adopted into a loving home. That should have been his happy ending. His person passed away a few years later, and his person’s daughter took him in. After that, the account we’ve received becomes a collection of conflicting explanations with the structural integrity of a wet paper towel. What we do know is that someone found Miko walking along a road. We were told that person could no longer keep him and left him in a closed shelter’s parking lot near a busy road. Eventually, a microchip notification brought Miko back to us. Thank goodness for that tiny chip, which apparently remained more committed to getting him home than several full-size humans managed to be. And this was the condition our boy came back in. Skin and bones beneath the fur. Infected skin. Painful ears. Relentless itching. We try very hard to keep our posts focused on the dog. But holy hell, it is difficult to look at this sweet old boy and keep our language suitable for the church newsletter. Life can fall apart. People can need help. That is exactly why our adoption agreement REQUIRES adopters to contact us if they cannot keep their dog. There was a rescue to call. Whatever happened in the parts of this story we cannot untangle, Miko was the one left paying for it. He deserved care long before he became a skeleton underneath his coat. We cannot tell you exactly how every piece of Miko’s story fits together. We do not know whether he was abandoned before being found, got loose, or what happened during the gaps in the explanations. We will not invent answers. But somebody was responsible for his care while he became this thin and this uncomfortable. And somewhere along the way, asking for help apparently proved more difficult than allowing an old dog to keep suffering. Miko was the one who paid for that. The sweetness is still there, which is almost offensive considering how thoroughly people have tested it. This boy has every reason to file a formal complaint against humanity, and somehow he is still out here being a darling. His temperament has more sugar than a Southern grandmother’s sweet tea, while ours currently requires adult supervision. What hurts most is remembering the light he once had in his eyes and seeing how much of it had faded. But little by little, we are seeing it return. He is getting a little less itchy. A little more comfortable. He is starting to play again. Small pieces of Miko are showing up as he begins to feel better, and we are handling those moments with all the emotional composure of someone watching the ending of a dog movie on an airplane. Our long-legged gentleman is still in there. Beneath the painful skin, the itching, the weight he needs to regain, and everything he has been through, Miko is beginning to feel like Miko again. We cannot change his past, although we can change his future.
Now that Miko is back in our care, we are discovering that beneath the black-and-tan fluff and approximately six feet of leg is a sweet old gentleman with the social preferences of someone who moved to the country specifically so people would stop dropping by. He is not going to meet you at the door with a friendship bracelet. After his recent experience with humanity, you will be entering through the probationary human program. Please bring treats, reasonable expectations, and the understanding that “BUT DOGS LOVE ME” is not a credential he recognizes. When new people arrive, Miko may quietly excuse himself or observe from a corner like a retired detective who already knows somebody in this room is full of it. He is reserved, cautious, and taking his time. Treats can persuade him to approach, and he accepts them gently before stepping away to enjoy his snack and review your application. The good news is that consistency works. His foster family has watched him become more comfortable with their neighbor through repeated positive experiences. You do not need to be a magical dog whisperer. You need to be patient, kind, and reliably associated with good things. Essentially, become the emotional equivalent of the refrigerator light when you need a midnight snack. With his foster family, he is already opening up. Initially, he spent most of his time sleeping in a back bedroom, feeling awful and wanting very little to do with the world. Now he chooses to spend more time near his people, follows their movements with his eyes, stands for gentle pets, and increasingly approaches for attention. Our long-legged little recluse is starting to attend family functions. We are trying not to make it weird, but internally we are throwing confetti every time he voluntarily joins the room.
With other dogs, Miko is looking for a pleasant roommate, preferably one whose hobbies include lying down and knowing when to stop. He could be happy as an only dog, and he could also enjoy a companion with a similar temperament and energy level. A more energetic dog would need to respect his slower pace. He is retired. He did not sign up to mentor an unpaid chaos intern. His current foster sister apparently combines the grace of a shopping cart with one bad wheel and the enthusiasm of a blender without a lid. Miko tolerates her antics through dirty looks and disapproving sighs, giving strong “I remember when this was a respectable neighborhood” energy. Yet, once a day, usually in the evening, he joins her for a run along the yard. Two trips are standard. Occasionally three times, when the old engine discovers a little premium fuel hiding in the tank. Then the athletic department closes. Please do not witness one of these brief appearances and decide he needs another dog to keep him "young" and have one wanting to climb onto his spine and announce that wrestling begins NOW. Cats? He lives peacefully with two dog-savvy felines. His foster does not believe either has felt compelled to throw murder mittens at him, which is an encouraging review from a species known for issuing disciplinary action without a preliminary warning. Children, however, require some consideration. Miko has not been around kids in his foster home, and his foster recommends a home with children age 12 or older. He is an older gentleman with sore hips, recovering skin, and the patience level of a man who has already listened to someone explain how to reset his internet router.
A small child shrieking “DOGGY!” while arriving at full speed is unlikely to improve his opinion of group activities. He needs gentle, respectful household members who understand that his body is not playground equipment and his bed is not an invitation to join him unannounced. If younger children visit, he needs close supervision and a quiet escape route where he can rest undisturbed. Just because he is super sweet doesn't mean he should be having to put up with all those young whippersnappers.
His energy level is a dignified 2/10. One point for being awake. One point held in reserve for dinner. This is not the dog for an active family seeking a hiking partner, dog-park regular, or someone to accompany them on a journey of personal fitness. Miko has reviewed that itinerary and would like to know who will be home to receive his orthopedic bed. He walks pretty well on a leash, but he does not see it and suddenly become the opening act of Riverdance. A walk? Sure. A nap? Also sure, and considerably less paperwork. He could take walks or leave them, making him an excellent companion for someone who enjoys a stroll without needing their dog to treat it like an Olympic qualifying event. At home, he mostly wants to be part of someone’s life without being assigned an extracurricular schedule. No doggy daycare itinerary. No mandatory mingling. Give this man an orthopedic bed and let him enjoy the radical luxury of knowing where he belongs. He is generally not in your face for attention—unless dinner is approximately an hour away. Then he becomes a grandfather standing beside the oven asking whether anyone has checked the roast. He would hate for you to lose track of time. Or forget where the bowls are. Or become distracted by your own deeply unnecessary meal. Toys have not impressed him. Fetch has also failed to secure funding. You threw it, you know where it went, and he believes this is a wonderful opportunity for you to develop independence. His interest in playing in water is unknown.
His foster has not reported particular fears or dramatic overreactions. Overall, he is cautious and careful, with confidence that continues to grow as he feels better and learns that his people are dependable. A securely fenced yard would likely suit Miko best, giving him room for leisurely patrols, his two-to-three annual-looking daily laps, and neighborhood commentary. He has not shown escape tendencies in foster care. The current property has meals and an orthopedic bed, and he appears to recognize a competitive benefits package. He knows “sit,” but his hips hurt, so please do not stand there repeating it like the problem is a poor cellular connection. The message arrived. The knees have declined. He comes when called, and lying down is already a field in which he holds an honorary doctorate. Miko is potty trained, though he can have occasional accidents. His family needs to offer regular potty breaks and handle any mishaps with kindness. He is an older dog in recovery, and an occasional cleanup does not require a courtroom reenactment. We have all had a body fail to consult us before making a decision, usually ending with quite an embarrassing moment that we try to hide in the back of our minds. When his foster family leaves, he free-roams directly to his orthopedic bed and stays there. Apparently, being left unsupervised is his opportunity to really focus on the sleeping he could not finish while everyone was home. He does not chew things he should not. Your shoes are apparently safe from him, although your turkey may wish to retain legal counsel. At some point, someone fed Miko directly from the table, which made perfect sense to a dog whose head arrives at dining height without any additional equipment. He assumed he had been seated. An understandable misunderstanding. His foster family is helping him unlearn those expectations, but food needs to be kept out of reach. Do not leave Thanksgiving dinner unattended on the counter. Those legs were installed for a reason, and while he may not use them for hiking, he can appreciate their contribution to buffet access.
And yes, he barks. He is part Great Pyrenees. You did not seriously think all that square footage came without a sound system. He enjoys an evening preemptive bark session lasting about five minutes, during which he addresses whatever concerns have accumulated across the surrounding zip codes. He also chats with the dog next door in the morning and occasionally throughout the day. Apparently retirement has given him time to get involved in local government. When told to wrap it up, he begrudgingly complies, presumably while informing his colleague that management is censoring the broadcast again. His bark is substantial, and he will use it if he perceives a threat. Once the matter is resolved, he needs a few hours of sleep to recover from his demanding career in public safety.
Miko could fit into a variety of quieter homes, but the essentials matter: patient people, respect for his sore body, room to build trust, and a daily routine that does not require him to pretend he is three. He is still learning to trust, but every time he chooses to come closer, asks for attention, or settles nearby, you get to watch this sweet boy remember what being loved feels like. He deserves someone who will treasure those moments—and keep showing up until he no longer has to wonder whether they will.
Ready to give Miko his retirement home? Fill out an adoption application so we can send it to his foster family. Commenting “I NEED HIM” is an excellent emotional outburst, but unfortunately tells us very little about where our exceptionally tall grandfather would be living. We need the actual application. The whole thing. His foster family would like to assess the match using something slightly more informative than seventeen heart emojis and your profile picture from a fishing trip. Miko must be picked up in person in Sand Springs, Oklahoma. Please arrange to collect your gentleman. He will not be shipped, transported, or arriving via an unusually furry Amazon delivery. Those legs may look interstate-ready, but his walking-to-your-house era is firmly over.
Come meet your sweet old boy. Bring patience, make room for an orthopedic bed, and give him a home where “forever” finally means he can stop worrying. ❤️
