Great Pyrenees puppies and dogs in Oklahoma

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Introducing Paws—a 6-year-old, 69-pound female Great Pyrenees mix who may be missing the coveted Pyr fluff, but has wisely replaced it with approximately 69 pounds of pure, concentrated sweetness. Yes, we know. She isn’t a traditional walking cloud. But considering you just complained about picking up yet another one of Tuffy’s fluffball tumbleweeds from the corner of your living room, perhaps you have secretly been wishing for a dog with a little more dog and a little less airborne insulation. Paws is incredibly sweet, wonderfully easygoing, and always ready to receive love. Her signature move is placing her paw in your hand and waiting for you to hold it. Not shake it. Not inspect it. Hold it. She would like emotional support, meaningful eye contact, and perhaps a whispered promise that she is the prettiest girl in the entire world. Imagine a 69-pound toddler asking to hold hands, except this toddler is house-trained, doesn’t demand a snack shaped like a dinosaur, and is covered in a sensible, low-maintenance amount of fur. She may not leave enough fluff around your house to build a second dog, but Paws brings all the gentleness, devotion, and quiet majesty people love about the breed. She is less “sentient snowdrift” and more “sleek emotional-support polar bear”—still substantial, still beautiful, and considerably less likely to clog your vacuum on a daily basis. 📍 Pickup Location: Fairplay, CO -Adopter will need to pick up in person if approved. We do not do transports. 📝 Apply here: https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app Paws is a dog who believes life is best enjoyed with three things: loving humans, a canine best friend, and someone willing to hold her paw during emotionally significant moments such as Tuesday afternoon. Paws absolutely loves other dogs and would thrive with a playful canine companion who is equally interested in turning friendship into a full-time position. She does wonderfully playing outside with her foster brother Eddie and would very much like to be promoted from “temporary roommate” to “official best friend.” She is not searching for a dog who merely agrees to coexist in the same ZIP code. She wants a buddy. A confidant. A recreational wrestling partner. Someone with whom she can patrol the yard, discuss neighborhood developments, and wait near the door when the humans make the outrageous decision to leave the house without consulting them. Inside, Eddie sometimes guards his treasures and growls at her, which has led to a few arguments. Paws is unbelievably sweet, but she is not going to stand there like a frightened Victorian housemaid while a smaller dog screams at her over a petrified piece of cheese he found beneath the couch. If repeatedly challenged, she may defend herself. Cats are an entirely different story—mostly because Paws has no interest in their story whatsoever. Her foster home contains five cats, and she could not care less about them. Five furry little criminals wander through the house with switchblades attached to their feet, routinely knocking objects off tables while maintaining direct eye contact, and Paws has decided this is above her pay grade. Paws has also done well with every child she has met. She lives with older kids and has met several younger children between the ages of three and nine when accompanying her foster mom to work. She was sweet and appropriate with them and caused no problems. However, because Paws is naturally shy, sensitive, and a little nervous in unfamiliar situations, her foster believes she would be happiest in an adult household or with an older, quieter child. She does not need to live inside a perpetual birthday party where three sticky toddlers are chasing her with pool noodles while someone plays “Baby Shark” through a karaoke machine. She would prefer calm people who understand that friendship does not need to begin with squealing, hugging, and immediate full-body enthusiasm. When meeting new people, Paws is shy and nervous at first. She prefers a calm introduction on a leash so she can observe you from a reasonable distance, evaluate your intentions, and determine whether you appear emotionally stable enough to hold her paw. She tends to be more comfortable with women initially, but she has warmed up beautifully to her foster dad and her foster sister’s boyfriend. Patience is mandatory. You cannot meet Paws, clap your hands against your thighs, loudly announce that “ALL DOGS LOVE ME,” and expect her to immediately climb into your lap while a choir of angels performs in the background. She needs time. She needs calm. Once she feels secure, Paws becomes wonderfully relaxed, affectionate, and devoted. Her signature move is placing her paw in your hand and asking you to hold it. This is not “shake.” This is an emotional-support appointment. She will place that paw gently in your palm and gaze up at you like a woman in a period drama whose husband has just returned from war. At that point, you are legally required to hold it, tell her she is beautiful, and reassure her that she will never again be expected to face Tuesday afternoon alone. At six years old, Paws is considered an adult, but apparently nobody remembered to inform her that she was expected to become dignified and begin collecting sensible hobbies. She is a very young six: playful, curious, affectionate, and ready to participate in family life. With an energy level of about 6 out of 10, she strikes a lovely balance between “let’s go do something” and “I have become one with this couch.” She would do well with a semi-active family who enjoys walks, car rides, playtime, and smaller adventures without needing every weekend to resemble an expedition documentary narrated by Bear Grylls. Paws loves going for walks. She likes to be at the front of the group, leading the expedition like a 69-pound Lewis and Clark who forgot Clark but brought a reusable poop bag. Every bush must be inspected. Every suspicious patch of grass must be analyzed. Every mailbox must be checked for breaking news left behind by a Labrador named Kevin. She is nervous when loud vehicles pass on Main Street, particularly large cars and trucks. Her future family will need to reassure her and help her continue building confidence. Quiet walking routes would be ideal at first. She does not need to be marched beside an eighteen-wheeler while someone yells, “See? It’s fine!” over the sound of twelve thousand pounds of machinery and her soul temporarily leaving her body. A securely fenced yard is an absolute requirement. Paws loves being outside, but she can become frightened and uncertain in unfamiliar surroundings. She has never attempted to escape, but her foster believes she could enter fight-or-flight mode if something scared her. And since Paws is not especially confrontational, we can safely assume her nervous system will select “flight”. Her adopter should supervise her in the yard while she adjusts, leash her anytime she leaves the property, and give her time to understand that this is her new home. No testing her recall beside an open gate because “she seems attached already.” Plenty of people seem attached until a dump truck hits a pothole and suddenly they are a beige blur heading toward Nebraska. When it is time for a car ride, Paws requires no help. Tell her to “load up,” and she hops right in. There is no ramp, crane, forklift, cheese trail, or group of adults chanting encouragement while one person attempts to guide her rear end through the door. Paws understands transportation logistics. She gets genuinely excited for car rides and adventures. Her idea of adventure does not require climbing a mountain, crossing a river, or being photographed beside a tent at sunrise. A peaceful trail, a car ride, a quiet pet-friendly outing, or a trip through the drive-thru where someone accidentally orders an extra cheeseburger would qualify. She does bark outside when people pass or the neighbor dogs begin making announcements. Her bark is not especially loud, and her foster is working on correcting unnecessary commentary because they live in a neighborhood. Paws is not trying to become a full-time nuisance. She simply believes the community deserves to know that a man in cargo shorts has walked past the property carrying what appears to be a highly suspicious iced coffee. Paws enjoys toys and loves to play, but she does not play fetch. From her perspective, if you throw a perfectly good toy across the yard, you have created a problem for yourself. She hopes you use this experience as an opportunity for personal growth. Water, however, does not qualify. Paws does not like playing in it. She has examined swimming and concluded that land has been working perfectly well for millions of years. She will not be joining your paddleboarding club, jumping from the dock, or standing happily in a kiddie pool while wearing sunglasses for Instagram. Please direct all aquatic opportunities toward a Labrador with fewer personal boundaries. Inside the house, Paws is a very good girl. She is potty trained, does not chew inappropriate items, and knows “sit,” “shake,” “no,” “stay,” and “calm.” She has more commands on her résumé than some of the people currently operating motor vehicles. “Shake” is her specialty, although she frequently turns it into “please hold my paw while I process the emotional complexity of being alive.” There is no official release command. The meeting concludes when Paws feels adequately cherished. She is allowed on the couch and believes this is one of the few household policies humans have gotten completely right. When her foster family is away, she usually sleeps there. At 69 pounds, she is less of a lapdog and more of an affectionate sectional attachment, but she carries herself with the confidence of a seven-pound Yorkie who has never once been told no. Kenneling is not a good fit for Paws. Her foster family tried a crate initially, but she was extremely nervous and uncomfortable. She does much better loose in the living room, especially when another dog is with her. Paws shows signs of separation anxiety, and canine companionship helps her feel safer when her people leave. Since being allowed to stay with the other dogs, Paws has successfully remained home for up to five hours while her foster family works. She has no accidents and causes no problems. She sleeps on the couch with her canine associates and waits for management to return. Apparently, her separation anxiety comes with a buddy-system exemption. For this reason, another friendly dog is not merely a decorative bonus—it is an important part of helping Paws feel secure. A person who works from home would also be ideal. Paws promises to respect your career as long as your employment permits occasional paw-holding breaks, lunchtime supervision, and a flexible policy regarding one large dog becoming partially visible during video meetings. She does not need someone entertaining her every moment of the day. She simply wants to know she is not alone. Another dog gives her comfort and provides companionship. Paws has no other known fears or dramatic overreactions. Thunderstorms, vacuums, household noises, and mysterious emissions from her own hindquarters do not send her diving beneath the nearest table with a suitcase and updated emergency contacts. Her nervousness is primarily connected to unfamiliar places, unfamiliar people, and being left without companionship. Medically, Paws came into foster care with a urinary tract infection. The infection has cleared, but she continued to experience urinary leakage afterward. She now takes one Proin tablet daily and has not leaked since starting it. Her adopter will need to continue working with a veterinarian to monitor the issue and manage her medication. One tablet a day keeps her dry and comfortable. Honestly, many of us require considerably more pharmaceutical assistance to maintain our current lifestyles. Paws may not have the coveted Great Pyrenees fluff, but perhaps she has simply been engineered for people who love giant dogs and are tired of finding fur in places that have never been visited by the dog. She offers 69 pounds of actual dog instead of 42 pounds of dog surrounded by 27 pounds of airborne insulation. Give this girl patience, security, a playful dog companion, and a hand to hold, and she will give you something far better than fluff tumbleweeds: a devoted best friend who chose to trust you, loves you with her entire soft heart, and will never allow you to experience the emotional hardship of sitting on the couch with too much available space. If you are ready to give this sleek emotional-support polar bear the calm, loving forever home she deserves, please complete an adoption application at: 📝 https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app Yes, the entire application. Not a Facebook comment saying “Interested.” Not a message consisting entirely of “How much?” Not a detailed account of the Great Pyrenees your cousin’s neighbor’s orthodontist owned in 1997. And no, placing a single period in the comments does not magically reserve her, although Facebook folklore remains deeply committed to that theory. Once your application is submitted, we can send it to Paws’s foster family so they can decide whether your home is the right place for their sweet, paw-holding girl. Her foster family knows her best, and adoption is less “first person to yell dibs” and more “finding the family where she can feel safe, cherished, and permanently included.” 📍 Pickup Location: Fairplay, Colorado If approved, her adopter must pick her up in Fairplay. Paws will not be shipped, delivered, teleported, packed into an oversized Prime box, or placed aboard a cross-country Fluffy Dog Uber.

I rescued her , she is very cute , the sweetest ever , she gets along well with other dogs and people , I don’t know about cats . She loves to cuddle and loves chew toys

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Introducing Huckleberry—because apparently someone ordered a gentle giant, selected “extra fluff,” stretched the legs to Great Dane proportions, and then dipped the whole creation in cookies-and-cream. Huckleberry is a 6-month-old, 62-pound male Great Pyrenees/Saint Bernard mix. Yes, we know he is black and white. Yes, we also see those big ol’ legs that look like they were borrowed from a Great Dane who wasn’t paying attention. But this is what we were told, this is what we are going with, and honestly, trying to identify rescue-dog genetics by appearance is about as reliable as letting a toddler sort the laundry. What we know for certain is that Huckleberry is a big, happy, lovable goofball with a wonderfully easygoing temperament. Huckleberry is essentially a jumbo-sized puppy with the heart of a marshmallow, the temperament of a sleepy Sunday morning, and enough fluff to make your vacuum question its career choices. He may still be growing—or he may simply continue stretching upward until he can inspect the top of your refrigerator. With rescue math, anything is possible. 📍 Pickup Location: Skiatook, OK -Adopter will need to pick up in person if approved. We do not do transports. 📝 Apply here: https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app Huckleberry loves other dogs. He arrived at his foster home, discovered that it came fully furnished with an entire canine social committee, and immediately decided this was the greatest development in modern history. He is playful, social, and always thrilled to have someone available for recreational wrestling, yard zoomies, and whatever strange team-building exercises puppies invent when the humans aren’t looking. His play style is enthusiastic and occasionally coordinated in the same way a shopping cart with one bad wheel is coordinated, but it is all friendly and in good fun. Huck would absolutely enjoy having another playful dog in his forever home—both as a companion and as an experienced employee who can help explain household policies. Cats, however, are another matter. Huckleberry is mildly curious about them, but at the moment, he is far too intimidated by those tiny, formidable felines to conduct a proper investigation. He knows they are small. He knows he is enormous. He also knows they possess knives on their feet and the confidence of a mob boss. Therefore, Huck has wisely chosen diplomacy. He may glance in their direction, consider his options, and then remember he has important business somewhere several feet away. He does wonderfully with the teenagers in his foster home and would likely do well with children around seven and older. This has nothing to do with him being unkind—Huckleberry is a giant sweetheart. It has everything to do with the fact that he is already 62 pounds, still growing, and currently piloting several extremely long legs without the benefit of a completed training manual. Smaller children may find themselves unexpectedly participating in a live demonstration of Newton’s laws of motion. Kids who are comfortable around large, rambunctious puppies and understand that dogs are companions—not climbing equipment—should have a wonderful time with him. When it comes to meeting new people, Huckleberry has never encountered anything remotely resembling a stranger. He greets everyone with the happy confidence of a cruise director who has been personally assigned to improve your vacation. New human? Excellent. Potential friend? Almost certainly. Holder of treats? Congratulations, you have been promoted to senior management. Personal space is still a concept under review, but friendship is immediate, enthusiastic, and apparently mandatory. Huckleberry clocks in at an 8 out of 10 on the energy scale, which is roughly what happens when you install puppy software inside the body of a small pony. He loves to play, explore, romp with other dogs, investigate his surroundings, splash in water, and generally participate in whatever everyone else is doing. He also enjoys toys, although fetch does not currently interest him. From Huck’s perspective, if you wanted the toy so badly, perhaps you should not have thrown it across the yard. That sounds like a personal problem, and he hopes you learn from it. He is a wonderful mix of adventure buddy and happy homebody. Huck is always ready for a walk, a new place, or an expedition to determine what might be living behind that suspicious shrub. However, he does not require a color-coded social calendar packed with brewery patios, hiking trips, and puppy networking events. He is equally content spending time at home with his people and dog friends. His definition of an adventure is wonderfully flexible: a car ride counts, a walk counts, playing in the yard counts, and following you into another room because you might be doing something without him absolutely counts. For such a young and impressively large puppy, Huckleberry is surprisingly good on a leash. He does not pull and is happy to stroll casually beside you while stopping to sniff and investigate the neighborhood headlines. He is not in a hurry. He has long legs, unlimited curiosity, and several leaves to examine before this walk can officially proceed. Getting into the car requires a little guidance, mostly because coordinating that many legs into one doorway is advanced geometry. Huck can load himself, though, and once aboard, he rides very well. He is not trying to climb into the driver’s lap, file a complaint about your music, or launch himself through a partially opened window. He settles in nicely and lets you handle transportation while he focuses on being a very large, fluffy passenger. Huckleberry does not have any known fears, dramatic overreactions, food guarding, or resource guarding. Thunderstorms, household noises, and the occasional mysterious puppy event do not send him into a full emotional press conference. His general approach to life is cheerful curiosity. People? Wonderful. Dogs? Amazing. Toys? Outstanding. Water? A triumph. New places? Fascinating. It is all good in Huck’s world. Think Beethoven without the slobber, property damage, or orchestral soundtrack—just the oversized sweetness and lovable bumbling. A securely fenced yard is a must for Huckleberry. He is young, energetic, and very much in the business of running, playing, and stretching those enormous legs. An apartment with three brisk walks and a solemn promise to visit the dog park twice a week is not quite the lifestyle this particular baby moose ordered. Huck needs room to romp safely, preferably with another playful dog who shares his enthusiasm for outdoor nonsense. He has shown no escape-artist tendencies, but a secure fence will give him the freedom to enjoy himself without his family having to jog through the neighborhood in pajamas yelling, “HUCKLEBERRY!” before coffee. Inside the house, Huck is already doing quite well. He is potty trained, although he may need a little guidance while learning the routine in a new home. Once he understands where the facilities are located and how management prefers requests to be submitted, he is good to go. He knows “sit,” corrects easily, learns quickly, and is a total people pleaser. Beneath the oversized paws and delightfully questionable coordination is a smart puppy who genuinely wants to make his humans happy. Huckleberry is also kennel trained and does very well in his crate. At night, he sleeps in a crate in the sunroom alongside the other foster dogs, presumably operating a highly organized nighttime society that humans are not permitted to observe. He stays in the same crate when his foster family is away and handles it nicely. There may be fluff. There may be snoring. There may be silent discussion of whether breakfast could reasonably begin at 4:47 a.m. But there is no crate-related crisis. He is allowed on the couch, which is important because Huck has reviewed the seating arrangements and believes furniture should be available to everyone regardless of species, size, or ability to leave an entire dog-shaped patch of fur behind. At 62 pounds and growing, he may eventually occupy the amount of couch space normally reserved for a family of three, but he will do so sweetly. You did not lose your seat; you simply made a substantial investment in an unusually affectionate throw pillow. Like most puppies, Huckleberry enjoys chewing. Unlike most puppies, he is rapidly becoming large enough to look you directly in the eye while making questionable decisions. With plenty of toys and chew sticks, he has been good about directing his enthusiasm toward approved materials. He may need some guidance at first regarding which objects are toys and which objects are expensive personal belongings you foolishly left within reach. Fortunately, he corrects very well and catches on quickly. He is not trying to destroy your possessions; he is merely conducting a detailed structural assessment with his mouth. Huckleberry is not much of a recreational barker. He saves his voice for situations he considers genuinely important—and when that happens, he becomes a very serious little town crier. His face changes, he looks directly at you, and he bark-talks until you acknowledge the urgent matter at hand. For example, when another dog took his chew toy, Huck immediately reported the incident to management. Once the stolen property was recovered and justice restored, he returned to complete silence. He does not bark without cause; he simply believes the household requires an efficient grievance department. Huckleberry’s ideal home is with people who adore large dogs, big personalities, and all the ridiculous sweetness involved in raising a giant puppy. He needs a securely fenced yard, room to play, continued guidance, and humans prepared to teach him how to navigate life as his body continues expanding like a loaf of bread nobody remembered to remove from the oven. Another playful dog would be a wonderful bonus, giving him both a best friend and a trusted mentor in subjects such as household routines, proper toy selection, and when it is appropriate to alert management about stolen snacks. Most of all, Huck needs a family who will appreciate him for exactly what he is: an exceptionally sweet, easygoing, slightly ridiculous goober with a soft heart, enormous paws, and enough happy enthusiasm to make an ordinary day feel like an event. He is still learning, still growing, and still determining whether all four legs truly need to travel in the same direction—but he is doing it with endless joy and a sincere desire to make his people happy. So, if your home is missing a giant cookies-and-cream marshmallow with baby-giraffe legs, an endlessly happy heart, and the sincere belief that every person and dog was placed on Earth specifically to become his friend, Huckleberry may be your boy. He is sweet, social, smart, eager to please, and delightfully ridiculous—the kind of dog who will make you laugh every day, love you with his whole oversized heart, and eventually require you to surrender a suspicious amount of couch space. If you’re ready to give this lovable baby moose a forever home, fill out an adoption application at: https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app Yes, the entire application. Not half of it. Not a Facebook comment saying, “Interested.” Not a message informing us that your childhood neighbor once owned a large dog, so you are basically an expert. Once submitted, we can send your application to Huckleberry’s foster family, who will determine whether you are worthy of becoming the official wrangler of his legs. If approved, you will also need to pick him up in Skiatook, Oklahoma. Huckleberry will not be shipped, delivered, teleported, or placed aboard a fluffy-dog Uber.

Introducing Sassy—a 2-year-old, 60-pound female Great Pyrenees who is essentially what would happen if a marshmallow, a weighted blanket, and an emotional-support cloud were combined in a laboratory and then given legs. At 60 pounds, Sassy is technically a large dog, although she prefers to think of herself as a conveniently portable lap accessory. She is substantial enough to provide the comforting pressure of a weighted blanket, fluffy enough to resemble a snowdrift, and more comforting than your favorite hoodie. Despite her name, Sassy seems to have arrived with very little actual sass. She is gentle, affectionate, and devoted, with a huge heart. 📍 Pickup Location: Oklahoma City, OK -Adopter will need to pick up in person if approved. We do not do transports. 📝 Apply here: https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app Sassy’s ideal home is less about square footage and more about the availability of human hands. Are there hands willing to pet her? Excellent. Arms available for cuddling? Even better. A person who understands that “just one more belly rub” is a legally binding agreement? She can move in immediately. She loves people—all people. Adults, children, men, women, longtime friends and strangers who made the understandable decision to adore her upon arrival. Sassy has yet to meet a human she doesn’t like, which suggests either exceptional character judgment or absolutely no screening process whatsoever. She has been wonderful with children ages 2, 3, 5 and 9, standing patiently for pets without jumping. Even the 9-year-old can walk her easily, because Sassy has apparently decided that dragging small humans down the sidewalk would be both impolite and beneath a lady of her fluffiness. She enjoys walks and being outdoors, but her preferred destination is wherever her people happen to be. She can be a homebody or an adventurer with equal enthusiasm, provided her emotional-support humans accompany her. Hiking trail? Lovely. Couch? Also lovely. Standing in the kitchen while you attempt to cook around a 60-pound cloud? Her schedule is wide open. The activity matters far less than whether she can remain within petting distance. Her leash manners are coming along beautifully. Sassy is a quick study who can walk directly beside her person without pulling. She occasionally gets curious and wanders slightly off course, but in her defense, she is a dog and someone clearly left smells outside. She is currently learning “stop” and “sit” during walks and is picking both up quickly. She already knows “come” and “sit,” proving that beneath the fluff is an operational brain and not merely additional stuffing. Car rides require no loading assistance. Sassy can get herself inside, then happily looks out the window or settles near her people for affection. When meeting new people, Sassy is a gentle guardian—although her primary defense strategy appears to be making everyone fall hopelessly in love with her. Intruders may enter with criminal intentions but will presumably leave after apologizing, scratching behind her ears and reconsidering the direction of their lives. When it comes to other dogs, Sassy is simply a soft-spoken introvert living in a world full of dogs who believe introductions should begin with parkour and an immediate inspection of everyone’s rear end. High-energy dogs can make her hesitant; rather than joining the chaos, she stays near her person and lets the other dogs bounce, run, and complete their unscheduled CrossFit class without her. She also isn’t particularly fond of being sniffed. Sassy believes relationships should unfold naturally over time and not begin with someone placing their entire nose into her confidential records. A calmer, respectful dog who gives her space and allows the friendship to unfold naturally would be much more her speed than a canine tornado. She could also be perfectly content as the only dog, where she would bravely accept the burden of receiving all available affection herself. Cats, however, receive her full respect. She gives them their space and only investigates when they choose to come closer. She understands that cats are tiny, heavily armed supervisors and approaches them with the caution of an employee who has read the workplace handbook. Around the house, Sassy is potty trained, has no food or resource-guarding tendencies and reportedly never barks. A silent Great Pyrenees is a little like discovering a unicorn doing your taxes, but her foster insists it is true. Sassy has reviewed the traditional Pyr responsibility of announcing every leaf, delivery truck and suspicious atmospheric disturbance and respectfully declined the position. She has never been kenneled, so her official review of crate life remains unavailable. When her foster leaves, Sassy stays in the living and dining rooms, where tempting objects are put away and she can be monitored. This arrangement works well because Sassy is generally a lovely houseguest. She has no interest in toys and does not play fetch. Sassy watched a human throw a perfectly good object away, considered the request that she retrieve it and correctly concluded that this was an inefficient system created by poor leadership. She is also fine around water but doesn’t play in it. She has invested considerable time in achieving her current level of fluff and will not be turning herself into a damp bathmat for recreational purposes. Now, despite resembling a softly toasted marshmallow with the energy level of a Sunday afternoon, Sassy possesses surprising athletic ability. Sassy can jump indoor baby gates and has already proven that chain-link fencing is more of a suggestion than an actual boundary. Because of this, she needs a securely fenced yard without chain-link fencing, so she isn’t tempted to turn an ordinary afternoon outside into an unauthorized neighborhood adventure—resulting in you sprinting down the street in your pajamas, one slipper and absolutely none of your dignity. If your heart has room for a gentle, quiet, wonderfully affectionate girl whose greatest joy is simply being near the people she loves, Sassy may be the missing 60-pound cloud in your life. She is sweet with children, respectful of cats, lovely on walks and ready to devote her entire oversized marshmallow heart to a family of her own. She doesn’t need constant excitement or an elaborate entertainment schedule—just security, companionship and humans who consider petting a serious daily responsibility. If you believe your home could be Sassy’s happily ever after, please fill out a full adoption application so we can send it to her foster family. Merely commenting “interested,” tagging your cousin or announcing that you once owned a fluffy dog in 1997 will not summon the application fairy. The form must actually be completed. Yes, every question. Even the ones requiring more than three words and mild introspection. If approved, Sassy must be picked up in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. She will not be mailed, shipped, teleported or placed on a cloud and gently blown toward your general location. You will need to make the trip yourself—but for a potty-trained, nearly silent, child-loving, cat-respecting emotional-support snowdrift with a heart made of warm cookies, we think your gas tank will forgive you. 📝 Apply here: https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app