Great Pyrenees puppies and dogs in Tulsa, Oklahoma

Meet Asha – the ultimate overachiever in the categories of lounging and loving. Asha is what we like to call emotionally available – she’ll bond faster than your last Amazon Prime delivery and loves hard. She’s sweet, gentle, and will follow you around like she’s on a mission to become your shadow’s understudy. Basically, she’s the safe, soft-hearted sidekick you didn’t know you needed… but now can’t imagine life without. She’s the kind of dog who’ll make you feel like the most important person in the world within 3.5 seconds of meeting you — mostly because she’s already decided you’re her emotional support human. Safe? Absolutely. Sweet? To a fault. And once she loves you (which again, takes about the length of one sneeze), you’re stuck. Forever. Like glitter. Meet Asha — a 2-year-old, 63-pound Great Pyrenees whose gentle spirit and loving heart have remained unshaken, even through some incredibly difficult times. Asha came to us from a shelter, where she found herself on the euthanasia list after being left unclaimed—with a large tumor hanging from the side of her face. Despite the pain and confusion, she remained sweet, calm, and affectionate with everyone she met. Thankfully, one of our wonderful foster families stepped up just in time, and thanks to the skill and compassion of our veterinary partners, her tumor was successfully removed. Her incision is nearly fully healed now, and she’s feeling better than ever.Asha is the perfect blend of laid-back and loving. She’s just as happy curling up for a quiet afternoon nap as she is riding shotgun for a treat run. She forms bonds quickly and deeply, offering the kind of unconditional affection that only a rescue dog can. She’s safe. She’s sweet. And she’s ready to write a new chapter—this time with a forever family who sees her for the beautiful soul she truly is. Asha is basically that one friend who gets along with everyone—dogs included. She’s the type who walks into a room, does a polite sniff-around like she’s reading the vibe, and then settles in like she’s always been part of the group. She doesn’t need to be in the middle of the play session, but she likes to know she’s invited. Now, when she first met Major(the resident dog), things were… let’s say tense. He wasn’t thrilled to share the spotlight, but Asha handled it like a total pro—gave him some space, didn’t take his dramatics personally, and let him come around on his own timeline. (He did. He’s obsessed now.) She met a couple of kids recently—ages 8 and 11—and read the room better than most adults. The younger one was clearly a little intimidated by her size (fair, she is part pony), and Asha immediately softened her approach. No jumping, no wild energy—just a slow flop to the floor and a full tummy display, like, “I’m harmless, I promise. You can pet me now.” Cats? She’s seen one. Didn’t chase it, bark at it, or try to interview it. The cat was probably more concerned than she was. Asha just gave it a side glance like, “You do your thing, whiskers. I’ve got naps to take.” And when it comes to grown-ups? Asha thinks you’re great. All of you. She gives a warm, happy greeting without turning into a caffeine-fueled tornado, then politely parks herself nearby in case you feel like giving her some attention. She’s sweet, respectful, and somehow still manages to make every new person feel like they just met their favorite dog. Basically, she’s the total package—diplomatic, affectionate, and socially savvy. Asha’s energy level clocks in at a solid 3 out of 10—which is basically the canine version of a koala crossed with a sleepy golden retriever. If you’re looking for a dog who treats movement as an optional activity unless snacks or car rides are involved, congratulations—you may have just found your soulmate. She’s not going to be your hiking partner for that sunrise summit, but she will accompany you on a leisurely stroll. Despite her preference for lounging, she’s a surprisingly stellar road trip buddy. None of that “panting at every red light” drama here—she's more of a chill co-pilot, gazing out the window like she’s contemplating life’s deeper questions (like why pup cups aren’t free healthcare). With a little help from her doodle foster brother, she’s now a pro car companion—quiet, relaxed, and very pleased to be included. Leash walking? She’s not going to win gold in the Obedience Olympics, but she’s not trying to drag you down the block like a sled dog in the Iditarod either. Unless there’s another dog nearby—then she briefly becomes the mayor of Excitedville. And yes, if she catches a really interesting smell, expect a full-on stubborn statue moment. She’s only been on two “official” walks, but she strutted her stuff like she was auditioning for Dog Bachelor. As for her hobbies, it’s a pretty short list. Napping, cuddling, maybe trying a toy if no one’s watching. She’s dabbled in playtime—it was adorable and slightly awkward, like someone trying yoga for the first time—but she’d honestly prefer a 24/7 petting schedule. She’s not high-maintenance, but she is very in favor of being adored like the majestic, velvet-nosed queen she is.Her temperament? In a word: sweet. In more words: dangerously sweet. She bonds fast, loves hard, and has that “I will imprint on you like a baby duck” energy. She’s smart—like, “quietly outsmarting the humans and pretending she didn’t” smart. Her memory is suspiciously good, so don’t make promises you can’t keep... especially if those promises involve snacks. She absolutely loves being outside, so if you’re apartment-bound with no yard, she’s probably not your girl. She enjoys sunbathing, supervising passersby from a safe distance, and making sure the wind is doing what it’s supposed to. Bottom line: Asha is a low-drama, high-sweetness kind of dog who just wants a soft place to land, a few short adventures, and a lifetime supply of belly rubs. Asha is, in fact, potty trained. She’s polite, dignified, and far too fabulous to do her business indoors like some kind of heathen. As for kenneling... hard no. If you’re looking for a dog who happily trots into a crate and tucks herself in like she’s checking into a cozy doggy hotel, Asha is not your girl. She gave it an honest try—for two nights—and responded with what can only be described as soul-crushing wails straight out of a Victorian ghost story. Not barking. Not whining. Wailing. Like a heartbroken opera singer who lost her will to sing. She sleeps quietly through the night on her bed, doesn’t wander, doesn’t get into things, and generally acts like she’s been free-roaming responsibly her entire life. She doesn’t need a crate to behave—she just needs a home that understands that not every dog finds comfort behind a closed door. So, if you’re thinking of bringing her home and sticking her in a crate while you’re at work—respectfully, don’t. It simply isn't necessary for her. Asha’s barking style? Let’s just say she’s not out here narrating every squirrel movement like a neighborhood gossip, but she will absolutely sound the alarm if something seems off. Suspicious noise outside? Bark. Mailman approaching? Bark. Ghostly presence from another dimension? Possibly bark, just to be safe. She saves the big, dramatic barks for things she deems truly important(although you may not always agree on the level of importance)—like potential intruders, strange sounds, or, you know, a plastic bag blowing across the yard with malicious intent. When she’s bored or just wants a little attention, she tones it down to more of a low rumble or cute little "notice me" bark—kind of like she’s trying to keep it professional but still get her point across. If you’ve made it this far and are thinking, “Wow, this majestic land cloud sounds perfect”—you’re absolutely right. But before you go planning matching outfits and road trips, there’s one small catch: you’ll need to fill out an adoption application at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app (yes, we require paperwork—because this girl doesn't just deserve a home...she deserves the PYRfect home), and you'll need to come pick her up in Moore, Oklahoma. That’s right—no shipping, no teleportation, no Uber for dogs. Just you, your car, and the open road leading to the best decision you’ll ever make. Don’t worry—she’ll make it worth the drive.

*Warning: may cause instant emotional attachment.* My name is Sugar. I may be on the smaller side compared to my siblings (think compact marshmallow), but don’t let my fun-size stature fool you—I can absolutely zoom when the mood strikes. I enjoy a good run, a solid play session, maybe a brief moment of athleticism… and then I’m done. I will be over there. Laying down. By myself. Reflecting. Because unlike some puppies, I know when it’s time to clock out and recharge. Basically, I’m the perfect balance of playful puppy energy and soft, sweet, cuddle-first temperament. So if you’re looking for a dog who’s sweet without being wild, playful without being overwhelming, and snuggly without shame—congrats. You found me. I’m Sugar. And I absolutely live up to the name. 🍬💛 I am a 3–4 month old, 22-lb male Great Pyrenees mix, proud member of the Brew Crew (yes, we’re a thing, yes, we’re adorable). My siblings and I didn’t exactly have the smoothest start to life. We were found abandoned, which is rude, frankly, but luckily a very kind Good Samaritan stepped in and kept us safe. They loved us, but couldn’t keep us long-term, so they did the absolute best thing possible and handed us over to PPFT so we could find our real forever homes. Okay… deep breath. Here’s the part of my story that’s quieter—and heavier. At some point before I was rescued, I fractured my leg. We don’t know exactly how it happened—maybe I was hit by a car, maybe it was blunt force trauma—but what we do know is that it happened when I didn’t have anyone to keep me safe. No comfort. No vet. Just a baby puppy trying to survive. By the time kind humans stepped in, my leg had already started healing on its own. Which sounds hopeful—and it is—but it also means I walked around injured for who knows how long because there was no one there to help me sooner. The good news is the X-rays show it’s healing well, and because I’m still growing, the vet believes my leg should continue to correct itself with time. So, while I may walk around with a bit of a limp, I am one tough cookiNow we’re safe, growing, learning how to puppy properly, and waiting for our happily-ever-afters like the soft, fluffy protagonists we are. I’ve taken this opportunity to lean fully into my strengths: sweetness, snuggles, emotional availability, and being carried like a baby. Oh, other dogs? Yes. Big fan. Huge. Five stars. I love other dogs. Love them. Adore them. Will absolutely run, wrestle, tumble, and engage in highly competitive puppy WWE matches with them. I am enthusiastic, joyful, and fully committed to playtime. And then—because I am emotionally mature and in touch with my limits—I will be the first one to say, “Okay, that was fun, I’m done now,” and wander off to take a nap. So officially, my relationship status with cats is “unknown.” What I can tell you is that I’m generally a pretty chill dude with a solid off switch and a strong appreciation for minding my own business. But until I meet a cat and receive my formal evaluation (likely via intense staring), this remains an unanswered chapter in my autobiography. Kids? Yes. Specifically teenagers—the tall ones who move fast, make noise, and think they’re very cool. I haven’t tested the tiny, grabby human category yet, so my experience is limited to the older models. But with teens? I was chill, well-mannered, and didn’t embarrass myself even once. A solid performance, if I do say so myself. Ah, the age-old question: adventurer or homebody? Let's see, I absolutely love to play. I run. I zoom. I participate enthusiastically in all activities that involve legs, grass, or other dogs also running for no clear reason. I’m in it. I commit. I give 110%. And then—when my work is done—I love a good, hard nap. So could I be an adventure-seeker? Sure. Am I a homebody? Also yes. I believe in balance. Now, let’s talk snuggles. I love them. Deeply. I enjoy being held like a baby. Cradled. Carried. Rocked. If you scoop me up, I will immediately turn into a melted marshmallow and pretend I was born to be carried everywhere. No shame. Zero. And yes, I currently am healing from a fracture in my leg, but before you get sad—don’t. I’m tough as nails. I’m handling it like a champ, barely complaining, and honestly acting like this is just a minor inconvenience in my otherwise very busy schedule of being adorable and emotionally supportive. So in summary: I’m sweet, small-ish, soft-hearted, quietly confident, wildly snuggly, and apparently resilient enough to star in my own inspirational montage. If you’re looking for a gentle soul with puppy playfulness, calm vibes, and the strength of a tiny warrior wrapped in fluff…I am totally him. Now, a quick note for my future family—because transparency is important and I respect informed decision-making. I am a puppy. A baby. A literal child. Which means certain things will be your responsibility, not mine. For example: Potty training — I am not born knowing where your bathroom boundaries are. Training — I have a very good brain, but it needs guidance, consistency, and snacks. Yes, lots of snacks. Socialization — it’s your job to show me the world so I can grow up confident, polite, and brag-worthy. Like make your grandma want to take me home with her brag worthy. Puppy proofing — if you leave it within reach, that’s on you. I don't know what you are emotionally attached to yet. Help me become the kind of dog who makes you feel like you absolutely nailed this whole dog-parent thing. I’ll bring the sweetness, the cuddles, the resilience, and the charm. You bring the structure, the patience, and treats. Deal? 🐾💛 And now, the part where you stop scrolling, sigh dramatically, and say, “Okay fine, we’ll apply.” All I ask is that you fill out an adoption application at pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app so PPFT can send it over to my very important foster family (they’re kind of a big deal). Then you’ll come pick me up in Norman, OK, where I will calmly and politely change your entire life. No pressure. Okay—some pressure. But the good kind. The “wow we really lucked out” kind. Apply responsibly. Love Sugar. 🐾💛

Oh good. You found me. I was beginning to think I was going to have to start a podcast called “Sweetest Boy Alive: The Untold Story.” But lucky for you, I’ve decided to introduce myself instead. I am, according to reliable sources (my foster), “the sweetest boy.” I personally think that’s an understatement, but I try to stay humble. I don’t need to be the loudest in the room. I don’t need to be the center of attention. I just want to be near my people, quietly existing in a state of gentle devotion. I’m the kind of dog who reads the room. If it’s playtime, I’m in. If it’s nap time, I’m already curled up. If it’s “we had a long day and just need peace,” I will absolutely match that energy. I’m Val — 12 weeks old, 28 pounds of premium fluff and I come pre-loaded with good looks, guardian instincts, and just enough independent thinking to occasionally pretend I didn’t hear you. My sister and I were abandoned before we landed in rescue. Quite rude, honestly. But truly? Their loss. Because I am a gem. A treasure. A limited-edition, oversized cloud with a heart of gold. Despite my early plot twist, I am the sweetest boy. Calm. Steady. Thoughtful. I’m not here to flip your coffee table for sport. I’m here to lean gently into your leg and make you feel like you’re the most important human in the universe. Oh, you want the tea on my social life? Perfect. Gather ‘round. Dog wise, I currently live with two big girls, and let me just say — I hold my own. We play well together, we wrestle appropriately, we zoom with dignity (as much dignity as a 28-pound baby bear can manage). And yes. I do have a signature move. It’s called: Sit On Their Heads. Listen, when you’re already built like a fluffy bowling ball, sometimes physics just happens. I don’t mean to end up perched on top of my opponents mid-wrestle. It’s just… efficient. But in all seriousness, I play nicely. Once I warm up, I’m all in. I take cues well, I match energy, and I genuinely enjoy having dog friends. Especially big ones who can handle my growing-into-my-paws era. Ah yes. Cats. The judgmental loafs with opinions. I have not personally conducted any feline evaluations yet. Now, as a 12-week-old, 28-pound Great Pyrenees-in-training, I suspect I would approach a cat the same way I approach most things: cautiously at first… then with curiosity… then possibly with enthusiasm that may or may not be appreciated. Children? Ah yes. The tiny, wobbly humans. I have met one. A 12-month-old grandson. Very small. Very loud. Questionable coordination. I was sweet, obviously. Because I am a gentleman. That said… I am still a puppy. Which means I have paws the size of dinner plates and the spatial awareness of a fluffy ottoman. Truthfully? I’m much more interested in the big doggie cousins that visit.So yes — I’m sweet with kids. But I will need supervision, guidance, and a family that understands I’m a growing Great Pyrenees puppy, not a plush toy with self-control pre-installed. Energy wise? I’m a solid 7 — which means I wake up ready to participate in life. I enjoy playtime. I enjoy wrestling my dog friends. I enjoy trotting around the yard like I own acreage (which, frankly, I should). But I also come with an off switch. After I’ve stretched my legs and expressed my athletic genius (head-sitting included), I am more than happy to plop down dramatically and recharge. Preferably near you. Possibly on your foot. For bonding purposes. Overall temperament? Calm. Gentle. Soft-hearted. Slightly dramatic in my physical presence, but emotionally? Rock solid. Sweet is my brand. Calm is my default setting. Gentle giant-in-progress is my destiny. Now, while I may be too cute for words and sound pretty much like a gem. A calm, sweet, oversized marshmallow of a Great Pyrenees puppy. However… I am still 12 weeks old. Which means I did not arrive pre-programmed with “Perfect House Manners 2.0.” So my future family? You’re going to need to be prepared. Potty training? That’s a team sport. Puppy proofing? Also on you. If you leave shoes on the floor, that’s not temptation — that’s an invitation. Socialization? Very important. I’m a Great Pyrenees. I am going to grow into a large, majestic guardian with opinions. The more positive experiences you give me now, the more distinguished and well-rounded I become. Take me places. Let me see things. Teach me that the world is safe and that you’ve got it handled. Training? Again — I’m smart. Very smart. Borderline suspiciously smart. But I will treat commands as collaborative suggestions unless you make them worth my while. Be consistent. Be patient. Be committed. If you’re looking for a calm, sweet, oversized baby bear who will grow into your loyal shadow… I’m your guy. I’ll be the one sitting beside you during hard days, leaning into you during quiet nights, and standing tall when it matters. I’m playful but thoughtful. Gentle but sturdy. Sweet without being over-the-top dramatic. Now, here is the deal. You cannot simply show up and yell, “That’s my polar bear!” There is a process. You must fill out an adoption app at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app But once you complete the adoption app, the rescue will send it over to my foster family for approval. And when you are approved? You will need to pick me up in Warr Acres, OK. I will not be Ubering. I do not drive. And I am too majestic for public transportation. So fill out the application. Commit to the process. Come get your gentle giant-in-progress. I’ll be here. Growing. Waiting. Possibly sitting on a foster sibling's head. Love, Val 🐾

Ah yes. Donald Pup. Valentine’s Day is approaching, and Donald is very much the shy, nerdy kid standing in the hallway clutching a crumpled note that says “Do you maybe possibly want to be my Valentine? Circle yes or absolutely yes.” At first glance, he’s a little reserved. Polite. Quiet. The type who needs a moment to assess the situation, make sure the vibes are good, and confirm you’re not about to laugh at him in front of the whole cafeteria. He takes things slowly, watches carefully, and works up the courage one deep breath at a time. But once those nerves settle? Oh buddy. Game over. Because the second Donald decides you’re safe, he transforms into a full-blown teddy bear with zero concept of personal space. He loves being held. Pick him up and he doesn’t just relax—he melts. Like warm chocolate. Like a puppy-shaped weighted blanket. Like he’s been waiting his whole life for someone to scoop him up and say, “You’re mine now.” And just when you think he’s all soft glances and gentle cuddles, he sprinkles in a little silliness—just enough to keep you smiling and wondering how you got this emotionally attached so fast. The longer you look at him, the harder it gets to stop. First it’s his cute face. Then it’s his sweet, cautious nature. Then suddenly you’re in love with his whole personality and planning your future together. Let’s talk about Donald Pup, because the audacity of his backstory needs to be addressed. Donald is a 7-week-old, 8-lb male Pyr/Lab mix who somehow—somehow—ended up in the shelter with his sister Daisy. Yes. A literal baby. A marshmallow with legs. A creature whose only crimes include being unbearably cute and possibly not knowing what taxes are yet. And yet, there he was. In the slammer. For the absolutely unforgivable offense of someone deciding they didn’t want him. We would like to formally state for the record that this is an absolute offense against humanity, and we will be pressing charges emotionally. Because look at him. This is not a dog who should know what a shelter is. This is a dog who should only know warm blankets, gentle cuddles, and being told he’s perfect approximately 47 times a day. Thankfully, that chapter is closed. Donald is with us now, and his future is bright. We’re talking a lifetime of “awwww” reactions, soft kisses, and people falling in love with him five seconds after meeting him. He’s sweet. He’s gentle. He’s got that soulful, tender energy that makes you look at him and immediately think, “Yep. That’s my soul dog.” And listen—we already know. When we reach out for an update someday, this will be the dog whose adopter sends us photos with captions like “I can’t imagine life without him". Around other dogs, he starts off in polite introvert mode. A little shy. A little “I’m just going to stand over here and observe the vibes.” But give him a minute, and suddenly he’s clocked in for puppy playtime, happily bouncing around with the other puppies in his foster home. Cats remain an unconfirmed mystery. He has not met one yet. We cannot confirm whether he will be respectful, confused, or simply assume it is a strangely shaped dog. Kids, on the other hand, are likely to get the absolute best version of him. Donald is calm, gentle, and surprisingly polite for someone who still fits in the “tiny potato” category. He does technically possess sharp puppy teeth—because biology—but so far he has chosen to use them responsibly. Donald’s personality can best be described as soft-spoken sweetheart with a very strong cuddle agenda. He’s a little shy at first—the kind of guy who needs a minute to read the room and make sure no one’s about to hurt his feelings. He prefers to take things slow, build trust, and then… boom. Once he’s comfortable, he flips the switch and turns into pure affection. Pick him up and he doesn’t just relax—he fully dissolves. Like a puppy-shaped marshmallow. Resistance is futile. Energy-wise, he’s sitting comfortably at about a 5 out of 10. Calm. Laid-back. Not here to cause problems. He’s mostly content to exist peacefully, soak up affection, and vibe. That said, this rating may increase slightly as he settles in and discovers the full range of his puppy powers—but for now, he’s more “gentle teddy bear” than “chaotic gremlin.” Right now, Donald is a shy little gentleman with excellent intentions and absolutely no life experience. Your job is to help him grow into the kind of polite, well-mannered, emotionally stable dog who makes your family member—yes, the one who once said “you do not need another dog”—suddenly show up unannounced “just to say hi” and then stay for two hours to cuddle him. You will need to show him the world is not scary, the floor is not lava, and strangers are just future admirers he hasn’t met yet. People, dogs, kids, new places, weird noises, and yes—that suspicious trash bin that appears every week and deserves side-eye until proven harmless. Training? Yes, that too. Donald is not secretly studying obedience while you sleep. He’s a blank slate. A soft little sponge. A puppy with great intentions and absolutely no idea what’s expected of him yet. With guidance, consistency, and kindness, he’ll soak it all up and turn into the kind of dog you can take anywhere So here’s the deal: if you’ve read all of this and thought, “Wow. I would absolutely rearrange my life for this puppy,” then congratulations — you are Donald Pup’s target audience. He’s sweet, gentle, cuddly, emotionally available, and already practicing his future role as someone’s soul dog. Now for the slightly less romantic part. If you want to adopt this tiny heart-stealer, you must fill out an adoption application at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app This is not optional. This is how we make sure Donald ends up with the right human and how we send your info to his foster family. Please do not attempt to telepathically claim him. We’ve tried. It doesn’t work. And yes — pickup will be in Skiatook, OK. No, we cannot beam him directly to your house. He will not Uber. He is eight pounds and has no credit card. Do the application. Come to Skiatook. Meet Donald. Fall hopelessly in love.

Hi. I’m Lucibelle — your full-time, on-call, board-certified (self-appointed) Emotional Support Specialist with a minor in Advanced Hug Distribution. Yes, Lucibelle, like a Southern belle… but fluffier. And with better hugs. I am, in fact, ridiculously sweet. The kind of sweet that makes people say things like, “Oh my goodness,” in soft voices while I politely accept their admiration. I gently distribute love like a fluffy Hallmark card that also sheds. I am 44 pounds of six-month-old Great Pyrenees fluff who recently discovered that poultry and I have… creative differences. In my defense, no one explained that “poultry guardian” and “poultry enthusiast” are not the same thing. I got a little too… invested. My previous owners realized farm life, and we were perhaps not aligned in our career goals, so they surrendered me to the PPFT's fluffy-butt program so I could find a home better suited to my talents. And by “better suited,” I mean a home with absolutely no live poultry. None. Zero. Feathers should only exist if they are attached to a toy I can proudly parade around the living room like a victorious marshmallow. Sooooo, let's talk about socialization now. You know… that thing PPFT is always gently (and not-so-gently) preaching about with puppies? Well. It is because of girls like me. You see, my former family never really socialized me around other dogs. So while I am fluent in Human Adoration, Advanced Hugging, and Professional Leaning… I am not exactly bilingual in Dog-to-Dog Etiquette. When another dog is around, my brain goes: “Oh. A creature. In my vicinity. Near my things. Near my humans. Near my oxygen.” And I don’t currently feel inspired to share any of it. At six months old, I’ve spent my entire life believing everything is mine. And when another dog shows up, I make it very clear that I did not approve this meeting. Could I learn? Yes. I am young. I am smart. I am very capable. But let’s be honest — undoing six months of “only child energy” would take a very dog-savvy family, an extremely chill resident dog (think zen master, not frat boy), and probably a good trainer to help me understand that the world will not collapse if I share a water bowl. So for everyone’s sanity — including mine — I would thrive best as your one and only girl. The exclusive fluffy queen of the castle. Socialization is still important. I should absolutely continue building confidence and neutrality around other dogs in controlled, positive ways. But living with another dog full-time? Let’s not set the group project up to fail. I am not a bad dog. I am an under-socialized dog who never learned the social rules. There’s a difference. I am not currently being fostered with cats. Could I potentially learn to coexist with a very dog-savvy, unbothered, confident cat who doesn’t run? Maybe. But if your cat is the type to sprint, scale walls, and scream like it’s in a horror film? Well, I just don't know. Children? Oh yes. The tiny humans. I approve. According to my previous home — and honestly, confirmed by my own tail — I like them. When I see kids, my tail goes into full windshield-wiper mode and I immediately think, “Ah yes. My people. The short ones.” I approach with happy energy, soft eyes, and that perfect blend of gentle-but-playful. I’m not out here bowling toddlers over like a furry linebacker. I’m more of a “hello tiny human, would you like to pet this luxurious cloud?” kind of girl. Now, let’s remember: I am six months old. I am still growing. I am still learning. I can be playful and bouncy, so while I may be gentle, I am also fluff with momentum at times. Energy level? A solid 3. I know. I look like I should be scaling mountains and wrestling coyotes before breakfast. But emotionally? Spiritually? I am more “soft background music and a good nap” than “parkour champion.” I’m not here to run marathons. I’m here to supervise your household with mild interest and then settle in for a cuddle shift. So if you’re looking for a high-octane, zoomie-fueled chaos gremlin… respectfully, that is not my brand. If you’re looking for calm, steady, affectionate, and emotionally available with occasional light activity. Congratulations. You found your girl. Car rides? Please. I was born to be a passenger princess . Once I’m in? I am a chill co-pilot. I enjoy looking out the window, monitoring traffic, judging other drivers silently, and occasionally sniffing the breeze like I’m in a coming-of-age movie. If you need a road trip buddy who won’t argue about the music and won’t ask, “Are we there yet?” every six minutes…I am accepting applications. ;) Leash manners? Oh, I don’t mean to brag… but I am basically a fluffy little professional. I love walks, but in a refined, dignified manner. I’m not trying to break land speed records — I’m just out here stretching my legs, monitoring the neighborhood, and occasionally sniffing something important. Adventure seeker? Let’s not get carried away. I am what you would call a refined homebody with selective outdoor interests. I prefer the “casual stroll followed by immediate couch snuggle” lifestyle. I love curling up next to you for a good movie. Long, intense excursions? Hard pass. Short, enjoyable walks with a prompt return to the couch kingdom? Perfect. So if you’re an adrenaline junkie looking for a trail-blazing sidekick, I may not be your girl. But if you want a loyal, affectionate, couch-snuggling co-star who appreciates fresh air in reasonable portions...I will start warming up the couch for you. Overall temperament? Happy-go-lucky fluff a master’s degree in cuddling. My hugs are slow, lean-in, heart-melting events. I don’t body slam. I embrace. I’m silly. I’m affectionate. I’m playful without being overwhelming. I’m a goofball who can roll in the grass one minute and rest my head on you like you are my entire emotional support system the next. Fence or no fence? I’m versatile. I walk beautifully on a leash. If you take me out consistently and give me attention, I can absolutely thrive without a fenced yard. Now… do I enjoy being outside? Yes. I’m a Great Pyrenees. Fresh air, light yard patrols, casual sunbathing — it speaks to me. So a securely fenced yard is always a lovely bonus. It allows me to supervise the breeze at my leisure. But I don’t require acreage and livestock (we’ve learned lessons there). I require structure, consistency, and humans who pay attention. Commands? Yes, I am not just a pretty face. I know sit, wait, here, and bring. So yes. I have skills. I have manners. I have potential. And I will happily demonstrate all of the above… for the right compensation package. Potty trained? Yes, I am a lady after all. As long as you continue taking me out consistently and don’t expect me to magically teleport to the yard on my own, we will have zero issues. Kennel? Yes, I’ve been kenneled. And no, I do not stage dramatic protests. If you present a treat, I will enter my chamber willingly like royalty accepting accommodations. Do I chew on things I shouldn’t? No. I know...I know...quite impressive right? As long as I have appropriate toys and you continue being a responsible human who provides them, I have zero interest in interior destruction. Do I bark? Listen, I am a Great Pyrenees. Silence is not in our official job description. But I am not out here hosting a 24/7 talk show. For the most part, I’m pretty quiet. I don’t bark just to hear my own voice. I save it for when I feel there is something worth noting. If you have made it this far, congratulations. You are clearly emotionally prepared for 44 pounds of a soft cloud that will look at you ike you hung the moon. Now here’s the part where you don’t just whisper “aww” and scroll away. If you would like to apply for the position of Lucibelle’s Forever Human, you will need to fill out an adoption application at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app. Do not comment "I want". Do not send smoke signals. Fill. Out. The. Application. Then — and this is important — you will need to come pick me up in Oklahoma City. I will not Uber to you. I am a passenger princess, not a delivery service. So if you’re ready for a sweet, snuggly, low-energy, emotionally supportive fluffy queen who has retired from poultry management and is ready for her forever couch… Go apply. I’ll be here. Waiting patiently. Probably napping. Love Lucibelle

Sabrina Carpenter. No, I may not be a famous singer. But I am gorgeous, and I do specialize in soft eye contact and emotional support staring. You’re welcome. Let’s just clear something up right away: I am not here for drama. I am not here for chaos. I am here for gentle vibes, cozy naps, and a human who understands that I am, in fact, a delicate flower in a slightly furry package. I am what the professionals call a “sweet, gentle, sensitive soul.” Instead of touring the world, I was touring… a shelter kennel. For six months. Six. Whole. Months. Since the beginning of August. Behind bars. Watching other dogs come and go. Listening to the echo of barking. Trying to convince myself that maybe tomorrow would be my day. Do you know what that does to a girl? Before that? I was probably a country girl. No real home. Just roaming the countryside like some independent farm-chic heroine in a coming-of-age film. Except instead of a soundtrack and a happy ending, I mostly got “shoo!” and “go on!” and a lot of dust in my fur. So, yes, you could say that I’m figuring out how to be part of a family. I’m a sensitive soul under all this fluff. I notice tones. I read body language. I think before I leap. I’m not the kind of girl who crashes into your life like a wrecking ball. I sort of… tiptoe in. Sit nearby. Watch. Then slowly decide, “Okay. I think I’ll love you now.” But I’m learning. Every day I’m trying. I don’t need perfection. I need patience. I need someone who understands that half a year in a kennel and a lifetime of being “the stray” doesn’t just disappear overnight. I am a 1.5-year-old, 73-pound female Pyr/Poodle mix, which means I am equal parts majestic mountain guardian and emotionally complex curly-haired intellectual. With other dogs, I’m what you might call the cool, aloof type. I don’t immediately join every group chat. I don’t attend every backyard wrestling match. I don’t throw myself into chaotic zoomie festivals with strangers like some kind of social butterfly with no standards. I observe. I assess. Once I decide I like another dog, I’m playful, appropriate, and actually pretty fun. I just don’t believe in forced friendships. Chemistry matters. So yes — I get along with other dogs. But I’m not here for nonsense. How do I do with cats? I don’t bother them. They exist. I exist. We coexist. I’m not chasing them, interrogating them, or trying to insert myself into their mysterious little feline business meetings. They can keep their high shelves and judgmental stares. I’ll keep my snacks and my dignity. Have I been around kids? Let's see, there is Sam. Sixteen years old. Lovely human, I’m sure. But she is… tall. And teenage. And moves like someone who has never had to survive on her own in the wild and then half a year in a shelter contemplating life. Was I a little unsure? Yes. Did I file her under “large unpredictable creature”? Also yes. Now at the vet’s office, a small girl approached me. Tiny. Calm. Gentle hands. Soft energy. And I said, “Alright. You may pet the fluff.” And I allowed it. But here’s the difference: A calm kid walking up to me for 30 seconds in public? Manageable. I can rally. I can be brave. I can say, “Yes, tiny human, you may admire the fluff.” Living with a child 24/7? Entirely different plotline. That means constant movement. Noise. Friends coming over. Doors opening. Sudden hallway appearances. The possibility of being emotionally overwhelmed in my own home — which is supposed to be my safe space. And after half a year in a shelter and a lifetime of figuring things out on my own? I take my safe space very seriously. So while I can politely handle respectful children in short, calm public encounters, I would truly thrive in an adult-only home or a very quiet household where I don’t have to be “on” all the time. Given my sensitive, thoughtful, “let me process this first” personality, I would be happiest in a home without kids. Energy level? Oh. We are sitting at a solid 4. I enjoy a nice stroll. A little backyard exploration. A refined game of chase with a vetted member of my inner circle. But after that? I would very much like to lie down and reflect on my day. Marathon fetch sessions in 98-degree weather? That sounds like something a Labrador would sign up for. I support them from a shaded area. I’m 73 pounds of fluff with a thoughtful heart and a moderate battery life. I don’t need constant stimulation. I need quality interaction. A walk, some sniffing, a little enrichment, and then I’m perfectly content to exist near you while you do your human things. If your dream dog is one who runs 12 miles before breakfast, we are not aligned. If your dream dog is one who enjoys a reasonable amount of activity followed by world-class lounging and soulful eye contact..I am your girl. Adventure-seeker or homebody? Homebody. Without hesitation. Listen… I have done the roaming thing. I have done the “out in the elements” era. I have done the “who knows where I’m sleeping tonight” storyline. These days? I prefer climate control. A consistent couch. The same four walls. A yard I recognize. A routine I can set my emotional clock by. Could I go on an outing? Sure. I do quite well out in public settings but do I want to live a life of always being on the move....that would be a no. Now, I kind of like car rides. I jump right in. Once I’m in, I settle. I observe. I take in the scenery like the thoughtful passenger princess that I am. So if you’re worried I’ll need to be hoisted like a reluctant sack of potatoes? Incorrect. I load myself. Because I am independent. But in a dignified way. Ah yes. Let’s discuss my personality — layered, nuanced, slightly dramatic, but ultimately very soft. With people, I’m a little unsure at first. I watch. I process. I keep a respectful distance while I gather data. But here’s the important part: You can see it in my eyes — I want the love. I want the pets. I want to lean into your hand and exhale like, “Okay… maybe this is safe.” I just need a minute. I’m a sweet, gentle, sensitive soul. The kind that bonds deeply once I know you’re steady. Once I trust you, I soften in the most beautiful way. I’ll come closer. I’ll rest near you. I’ll quietly choose you. I’m not the dog who crashes into your lap on day one. I’m the dog who earns her trust — and then gives you her whole heart. Would I thrive best with a securely fenced yard, or would I do well in an apartment with “regular leash walks”? Let’s not overcomplicate this. Yes. I need a fenced yard. I am a former country girl who has already done the “wander the countryside and hope for the best” phase. We are not revisiting that storyline. A fenced yard means safety. Predictability. The ability to step outside, sniff the air dramatically, and handle my business without feeling like I’m auditioning for another season of “Lost & Alone.” Could I technically be leash-walked multiple times a day in an apartment setting? Maybe. But remember — I’m a sensitive, thoughtful homebody who likes routine and controlled environments. A fenced yard gives me space to decompress without extra pressure. Do I know any commands? First of all, I prefer the term “life skills.” Yes. I know sit. Because I am a lady. And I know paw. Which is essentially me offering you my hand in a formal introduction. Very refined. Very dignified. Very “nice to meet you, please admire the fluff.” So yes, I know sit. I know paw. And I absolutely have the capacity to learn more. Just remember: I respond best to kindness, patience, and the understanding that I am choosing to cooperate with you. Am I potty trained? Yes. Because I am a civilized woman. Have I been kenneled? Also yes. And I am, as stated, a model citizen in it. Do I prefer being out with my people? Obviously. I did not wait half a year in a shelter to voluntarily choose isolation. But if a kennel is part of the routine, I handle it like a mature adult. Do I chew on things I shouldn’t? Excuse me? No. I am 1.5 years old. I am 73 pounds. I have survived rural independence and six months in a shelter. I am not out here gnawing on baseboards like a teething goblin. I have dignity. Do I bark? Yes. But I am not out here hosting a TED Talk every time a leaf moves. I am what you would call the strong, silent type. I speak when necessary. When there is an actual reason. When something requires commentary. And now… the part where I pretend I’m not deeply invested in you choosing me. If you want a soulful, sensitive, homebody queen who will sit politely, offer her paw like a Victorian lady, and guard your peace with quiet loyalty? I am her. Now, if you want to adopt me you need to fill out an adoption application. Yes. Paperwork. I know. Apparently they don’t just hand over 73 pounds of emotionally complex fluff to anyone who says, “Aww.” Once you apply, the rescue will send your app to my foster family — because they know me best and want to make sure its the Pyrfect fit for everyone involved. And when you are approved? You will need to pick me up in Hutchinson, KS. Fill out the app at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app Come get me, your future soul dog and the one that people won't be able to stop talking about much like my namesake.

Meet Asha – the ultimate overachiever in the categories of lounging and loving. Asha is what we like to call emotionally available – she’ll bond faster than your last Amazon Prime delivery and loves hard. She’s sweet, gentle, and will follow you around like she’s on a mission to become your shadow’s understudy. Basically, she’s the safe, soft-hearted sidekick you didn’t know you needed… but now can’t imagine life without. She’s the kind of dog who’ll make you feel like the most important person in the world within 3.5 seconds of meeting you — mostly because she’s already decided you’re her emotional support human. Safe? Absolutely. Sweet? To a fault. And once she loves you (which again, takes about the length of one sneeze), you’re stuck. Forever. Like glitter. Meet Asha — a 2-year-old, 63-pound Great Pyrenees whose gentle spirit and loving heart have remained unshaken, even through some incredibly difficult times. Asha came to us from a shelter, where she found herself on the euthanasia list after being left unclaimed—with a large tumor hanging from the side of her face. Despite the pain and confusion, she remained sweet, calm, and affectionate with everyone she met. Thankfully, one of our wonderful foster families stepped up just in time, and thanks to the skill and compassion of our veterinary partners, her tumor was successfully removed. Her incision is nearly fully healed now, and she’s feeling better than ever.Asha is the perfect blend of laid-back and loving. She’s just as happy curling up for a quiet afternoon nap as she is riding shotgun for a treat run. She forms bonds quickly and deeply, offering the kind of unconditional affection that only a rescue dog can. She’s safe. She’s sweet. And she’s ready to write a new chapter—this time with a forever family who sees her for the beautiful soul she truly is. Asha is basically that one friend who gets along with everyone—dogs included. She’s the type who walks into a room, does a polite sniff-around like she’s reading the vibe, and then settles in like she’s always been part of the group. She doesn’t need to be in the middle of the play session, but she likes to know she’s invited. Now, when she first met Major(the resident dog), things were… let’s say tense. He wasn’t thrilled to share the spotlight, but Asha handled it like a total pro—gave him some space, didn’t take his dramatics personally, and let him come around on his own timeline. (He did. He’s obsessed now.) She met a couple of kids recently—ages 8 and 11—and read the room better than most adults. The younger one was clearly a little intimidated by her size (fair, she is part pony), and Asha immediately softened her approach. No jumping, no wild energy—just a slow flop to the floor and a full tummy display, like, “I’m harmless, I promise. You can pet me now.” Cats? She’s seen one. Didn’t chase it, bark at it, or try to interview it. The cat was probably more concerned than she was. Asha just gave it a side glance like, “You do your thing, whiskers. I’ve got naps to take.” And when it comes to grown-ups? Asha thinks you’re great. All of you. She gives a warm, happy greeting without turning into a caffeine-fueled tornado, then politely parks herself nearby in case you feel like giving her some attention. She’s sweet, respectful, and somehow still manages to make every new person feel like they just met their favorite dog. Basically, she’s the total package—diplomatic, affectionate, and socially savvy. Asha’s energy level clocks in at a solid 3 out of 10—which is basically the canine version of a koala crossed with a sleepy golden retriever. If you’re looking for a dog who treats movement as an optional activity unless snacks or car rides are involved, congratulations—you may have just found your soulmate. She’s not going to be your hiking partner for that sunrise summit, but she will accompany you on a leisurely stroll. Despite her preference for lounging, she’s a surprisingly stellar road trip buddy. None of that “panting at every red light” drama here—she's more of a chill co-pilot, gazing out the window like she’s contemplating life’s deeper questions (like why pup cups aren’t free healthcare). With a little help from her doodle foster brother, she’s now a pro car companion—quiet, relaxed, and very pleased to be included. Leash walking? She’s not going to win gold in the Obedience Olympics, but she’s not trying to drag you down the block like a sled dog in the Iditarod either. Unless there’s another dog nearby—then she briefly becomes the mayor of Excitedville. And yes, if she catches a really interesting smell, expect a full-on stubborn statue moment. She’s only been on two “official” walks, but she strutted her stuff like she was auditioning for Dog Bachelor. As for her hobbies, it’s a pretty short list. Napping, cuddling, maybe trying a toy if no one’s watching. She’s dabbled in playtime—it was adorable and slightly awkward, like someone trying yoga for the first time—but she’d honestly prefer a 24/7 petting schedule. She’s not high-maintenance, but she is very in favor of being adored like the majestic, velvet-nosed queen she is.Her temperament? In a word: sweet. In more words: dangerously sweet. She bonds fast, loves hard, and has that “I will imprint on you like a baby duck” energy. She’s smart—like, “quietly outsmarting the humans and pretending she didn’t” smart. Her memory is suspiciously good, so don’t make promises you can’t keep... especially if those promises involve snacks. She absolutely loves being outside, so if you’re apartment-bound with no yard, she’s probably not your girl. She enjoys sunbathing, supervising passersby from a safe distance, and making sure the wind is doing what it’s supposed to. Bottom line: Asha is a low-drama, high-sweetness kind of dog who just wants a soft place to land, a few short adventures, and a lifetime supply of belly rubs. Asha is, in fact, potty trained. She’s polite, dignified, and far too fabulous to do her business indoors like some kind of heathen. As for kenneling... hard no. If you’re looking for a dog who happily trots into a crate and tucks herself in like she’s checking into a cozy doggy hotel, Asha is not your girl. She gave it an honest try—for two nights—and responded with what can only be described as soul-crushing wails straight out of a Victorian ghost story. Not barking. Not whining. Wailing. Like a heartbroken opera singer who lost her will to sing. She sleeps quietly through the night on her bed, doesn’t wander, doesn’t get into things, and generally acts like she’s been free-roaming responsibly her entire life. She doesn’t need a crate to behave—she just needs a home that understands that not every dog finds comfort behind a closed door. So, if you’re thinking of bringing her home and sticking her in a crate while you’re at work—respectfully, don’t. It simply isn't necessary for her. Asha’s barking style? Let’s just say she’s not out here narrating every squirrel movement like a neighborhood gossip, but she will absolutely sound the alarm if something seems off. Suspicious noise outside? Bark. Mailman approaching? Bark. Ghostly presence from another dimension? Possibly bark, just to be safe. She saves the big, dramatic barks for things she deems truly important(although you may not always agree on the level of importance)—like potential intruders, strange sounds, or, you know, a plastic bag blowing across the yard with malicious intent. When she’s bored or just wants a little attention, she tones it down to more of a low rumble or cute little "notice me" bark—kind of like she’s trying to keep it professional but still get her point across. If you’ve made it this far and are thinking, “Wow, this majestic land cloud sounds perfect”—you’re absolutely right. But before you go planning matching outfits and road trips, there’s one small catch: you’ll need to fill out an adoption application at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app (yes, we require paperwork—because this girl doesn't just deserve a home...she deserves the PYRfect home), and you'll need to come pick her up in Moore, Oklahoma. That’s right—no shipping, no teleportation, no Uber for dogs. Just you, your car, and the open road leading to the best decision you’ll ever make. Don’t worry—she’ll make it worth the drive.

*Warning: may cause instant emotional attachment.* My name is Sugar. I may be on the smaller side compared to my siblings (think compact marshmallow), but don’t let my fun-size stature fool you—I can absolutely zoom when the mood strikes. I enjoy a good run, a solid play session, maybe a brief moment of athleticism… and then I’m done. I will be over there. Laying down. By myself. Reflecting. Because unlike some puppies, I know when it’s time to clock out and recharge. Basically, I’m the perfect balance of playful puppy energy and soft, sweet, cuddle-first temperament. So if you’re looking for a dog who’s sweet without being wild, playful without being overwhelming, and snuggly without shame—congrats. You found me. I’m Sugar. And I absolutely live up to the name. 🍬💛 I am a 3–4 month old, 22-lb male Great Pyrenees mix, proud member of the Brew Crew (yes, we’re a thing, yes, we’re adorable). My siblings and I didn’t exactly have the smoothest start to life. We were found abandoned, which is rude, frankly, but luckily a very kind Good Samaritan stepped in and kept us safe. They loved us, but couldn’t keep us long-term, so they did the absolute best thing possible and handed us over to PPFT so we could find our real forever homes. Okay… deep breath. Here’s the part of my story that’s quieter—and heavier. At some point before I was rescued, I fractured my leg. We don’t know exactly how it happened—maybe I was hit by a car, maybe it was blunt force trauma—but what we do know is that it happened when I didn’t have anyone to keep me safe. No comfort. No vet. Just a baby puppy trying to survive. By the time kind humans stepped in, my leg had already started healing on its own. Which sounds hopeful—and it is—but it also means I walked around injured for who knows how long because there was no one there to help me sooner. The good news is the X-rays show it’s healing well, and because I’m still growing, the vet believes my leg should continue to correct itself with time. So, while I may walk around with a bit of a limp, I am one tough cookiNow we’re safe, growing, learning how to puppy properly, and waiting for our happily-ever-afters like the soft, fluffy protagonists we are. I’ve taken this opportunity to lean fully into my strengths: sweetness, snuggles, emotional availability, and being carried like a baby. Oh, other dogs? Yes. Big fan. Huge. Five stars. I love other dogs. Love them. Adore them. Will absolutely run, wrestle, tumble, and engage in highly competitive puppy WWE matches with them. I am enthusiastic, joyful, and fully committed to playtime. And then—because I am emotionally mature and in touch with my limits—I will be the first one to say, “Okay, that was fun, I’m done now,” and wander off to take a nap. So officially, my relationship status with cats is “unknown.” What I can tell you is that I’m generally a pretty chill dude with a solid off switch and a strong appreciation for minding my own business. But until I meet a cat and receive my formal evaluation (likely via intense staring), this remains an unanswered chapter in my autobiography. Kids? Yes. Specifically teenagers—the tall ones who move fast, make noise, and think they’re very cool. I haven’t tested the tiny, grabby human category yet, so my experience is limited to the older models. But with teens? I was chill, well-mannered, and didn’t embarrass myself even once. A solid performance, if I do say so myself. Ah, the age-old question: adventurer or homebody? Let's see, I absolutely love to play. I run. I zoom. I participate enthusiastically in all activities that involve legs, grass, or other dogs also running for no clear reason. I’m in it. I commit. I give 110%. And then—when my work is done—I love a good, hard nap. So could I be an adventure-seeker? Sure. Am I a homebody? Also yes. I believe in balance. Now, let’s talk snuggles. I love them. Deeply. I enjoy being held like a baby. Cradled. Carried. Rocked. If you scoop me up, I will immediately turn into a melted marshmallow and pretend I was born to be carried everywhere. No shame. Zero. And yes, I currently am healing from a fracture in my leg, but before you get sad—don’t. I’m tough as nails. I’m handling it like a champ, barely complaining, and honestly acting like this is just a minor inconvenience in my otherwise very busy schedule of being adorable and emotionally supportive. So in summary: I’m sweet, small-ish, soft-hearted, quietly confident, wildly snuggly, and apparently resilient enough to star in my own inspirational montage. If you’re looking for a gentle soul with puppy playfulness, calm vibes, and the strength of a tiny warrior wrapped in fluff…I am totally him. Now, a quick note for my future family—because transparency is important and I respect informed decision-making. I am a puppy. A baby. A literal child. Which means certain things will be your responsibility, not mine. For example: Potty training — I am not born knowing where your bathroom boundaries are. Training — I have a very good brain, but it needs guidance, consistency, and snacks. Yes, lots of snacks. Socialization — it’s your job to show me the world so I can grow up confident, polite, and brag-worthy. Like make your grandma want to take me home with her brag worthy. Puppy proofing — if you leave it within reach, that’s on you. I don't know what you are emotionally attached to yet. Help me become the kind of dog who makes you feel like you absolutely nailed this whole dog-parent thing. I’ll bring the sweetness, the cuddles, the resilience, and the charm. You bring the structure, the patience, and treats. Deal? 🐾💛 And now, the part where you stop scrolling, sigh dramatically, and say, “Okay fine, we’ll apply.” All I ask is that you fill out an adoption application at pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app so PPFT can send it over to my very important foster family (they’re kind of a big deal). Then you’ll come pick me up in Norman, OK, where I will calmly and politely change your entire life. No pressure. Okay—some pressure. But the good kind. The “wow we really lucked out” kind. Apply responsibly. Love Sugar. 🐾💛

Oh good. You found me. I was beginning to think I was going to have to start a podcast called “Sweetest Boy Alive: The Untold Story.” But lucky for you, I’ve decided to introduce myself instead. I am, according to reliable sources (my foster), “the sweetest boy.” I personally think that’s an understatement, but I try to stay humble. I don’t need to be the loudest in the room. I don’t need to be the center of attention. I just want to be near my people, quietly existing in a state of gentle devotion. I’m the kind of dog who reads the room. If it’s playtime, I’m in. If it’s nap time, I’m already curled up. If it’s “we had a long day and just need peace,” I will absolutely match that energy. I’m Val — 12 weeks old, 28 pounds of premium fluff and I come pre-loaded with good looks, guardian instincts, and just enough independent thinking to occasionally pretend I didn’t hear you. My sister and I were abandoned before we landed in rescue. Quite rude, honestly. But truly? Their loss. Because I am a gem. A treasure. A limited-edition, oversized cloud with a heart of gold. Despite my early plot twist, I am the sweetest boy. Calm. Steady. Thoughtful. I’m not here to flip your coffee table for sport. I’m here to lean gently into your leg and make you feel like you’re the most important human in the universe. Oh, you want the tea on my social life? Perfect. Gather ‘round. Dog wise, I currently live with two big girls, and let me just say — I hold my own. We play well together, we wrestle appropriately, we zoom with dignity (as much dignity as a 28-pound baby bear can manage). And yes. I do have a signature move. It’s called: Sit On Their Heads. Listen, when you’re already built like a fluffy bowling ball, sometimes physics just happens. I don’t mean to end up perched on top of my opponents mid-wrestle. It’s just… efficient. But in all seriousness, I play nicely. Once I warm up, I’m all in. I take cues well, I match energy, and I genuinely enjoy having dog friends. Especially big ones who can handle my growing-into-my-paws era. Ah yes. Cats. The judgmental loafs with opinions. I have not personally conducted any feline evaluations yet. Now, as a 12-week-old, 28-pound Great Pyrenees-in-training, I suspect I would approach a cat the same way I approach most things: cautiously at first… then with curiosity… then possibly with enthusiasm that may or may not be appreciated. Children? Ah yes. The tiny, wobbly humans. I have met one. A 12-month-old grandson. Very small. Very loud. Questionable coordination. I was sweet, obviously. Because I am a gentleman. That said… I am still a puppy. Which means I have paws the size of dinner plates and the spatial awareness of a fluffy ottoman. Truthfully? I’m much more interested in the big doggie cousins that visit.So yes — I’m sweet with kids. But I will need supervision, guidance, and a family that understands I’m a growing Great Pyrenees puppy, not a plush toy with self-control pre-installed. Energy wise? I’m a solid 7 — which means I wake up ready to participate in life. I enjoy playtime. I enjoy wrestling my dog friends. I enjoy trotting around the yard like I own acreage (which, frankly, I should). But I also come with an off switch. After I’ve stretched my legs and expressed my athletic genius (head-sitting included), I am more than happy to plop down dramatically and recharge. Preferably near you. Possibly on your foot. For bonding purposes. Overall temperament? Calm. Gentle. Soft-hearted. Slightly dramatic in my physical presence, but emotionally? Rock solid. Sweet is my brand. Calm is my default setting. Gentle giant-in-progress is my destiny. Now, while I may be too cute for words and sound pretty much like a gem. A calm, sweet, oversized marshmallow of a Great Pyrenees puppy. However… I am still 12 weeks old. Which means I did not arrive pre-programmed with “Perfect House Manners 2.0.” So my future family? You’re going to need to be prepared. Potty training? That’s a team sport. Puppy proofing? Also on you. If you leave shoes on the floor, that’s not temptation — that’s an invitation. Socialization? Very important. I’m a Great Pyrenees. I am going to grow into a large, majestic guardian with opinions. The more positive experiences you give me now, the more distinguished and well-rounded I become. Take me places. Let me see things. Teach me that the world is safe and that you’ve got it handled. Training? Again — I’m smart. Very smart. Borderline suspiciously smart. But I will treat commands as collaborative suggestions unless you make them worth my while. Be consistent. Be patient. Be committed. If you’re looking for a calm, sweet, oversized baby bear who will grow into your loyal shadow… I’m your guy. I’ll be the one sitting beside you during hard days, leaning into you during quiet nights, and standing tall when it matters. I’m playful but thoughtful. Gentle but sturdy. Sweet without being over-the-top dramatic. Now, here is the deal. You cannot simply show up and yell, “That’s my polar bear!” There is a process. You must fill out an adoption app at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app But once you complete the adoption app, the rescue will send it over to my foster family for approval. And when you are approved? You will need to pick me up in Warr Acres, OK. I will not be Ubering. I do not drive. And I am too majestic for public transportation. So fill out the application. Commit to the process. Come get your gentle giant-in-progress. I’ll be here. Growing. Waiting. Possibly sitting on a foster sibling's head. Love, Val 🐾

Hi. I’m Lucibelle — your full-time, on-call, board-certified (self-appointed) Emotional Support Specialist with a minor in Advanced Hug Distribution. Yes, Lucibelle, like a Southern belle… but fluffier. And with better hugs. I am, in fact, ridiculously sweet. The kind of sweet that makes people say things like, “Oh my goodness,” in soft voices while I politely accept their admiration. I gently distribute love like a fluffy Hallmark card that also sheds. I am 44 pounds of six-month-old Great Pyrenees fluff who recently discovered that poultry and I have… creative differences. In my defense, no one explained that “poultry guardian” and “poultry enthusiast” are not the same thing. I got a little too… invested. My previous owners realized farm life, and we were perhaps not aligned in our career goals, so they surrendered me to the PPFT's fluffy-butt program so I could find a home better suited to my talents. And by “better suited,” I mean a home with absolutely no live poultry. None. Zero. Feathers should only exist if they are attached to a toy I can proudly parade around the living room like a victorious marshmallow. Sooooo, let's talk about socialization now. You know… that thing PPFT is always gently (and not-so-gently) preaching about with puppies? Well. It is because of girls like me. You see, my former family never really socialized me around other dogs. So while I am fluent in Human Adoration, Advanced Hugging, and Professional Leaning… I am not exactly bilingual in Dog-to-Dog Etiquette. When another dog is around, my brain goes: “Oh. A creature. In my vicinity. Near my things. Near my humans. Near my oxygen.” And I don’t currently feel inspired to share any of it. At six months old, I’ve spent my entire life believing everything is mine. And when another dog shows up, I make it very clear that I did not approve this meeting. Could I learn? Yes. I am young. I am smart. I am very capable. But let’s be honest — undoing six months of “only child energy” would take a very dog-savvy family, an extremely chill resident dog (think zen master, not frat boy), and probably a good trainer to help me understand that the world will not collapse if I share a water bowl. So for everyone’s sanity — including mine — I would thrive best as your one and only girl. The exclusive fluffy queen of the castle. Socialization is still important. I should absolutely continue building confidence and neutrality around other dogs in controlled, positive ways. But living with another dog full-time? Let’s not set the group project up to fail. I am not a bad dog. I am an under-socialized dog who never learned the social rules. There’s a difference. I am not currently being fostered with cats. Could I potentially learn to coexist with a very dog-savvy, unbothered, confident cat who doesn’t run? Maybe. But if your cat is the type to sprint, scale walls, and scream like it’s in a horror film? Well, I just don't know. Children? Oh yes. The tiny humans. I approve. According to my previous home — and honestly, confirmed by my own tail — I like them. When I see kids, my tail goes into full windshield-wiper mode and I immediately think, “Ah yes. My people. The short ones.” I approach with happy energy, soft eyes, and that perfect blend of gentle-but-playful. I’m not out here bowling toddlers over like a furry linebacker. I’m more of a “hello tiny human, would you like to pet this luxurious cloud?” kind of girl. Now, let’s remember: I am six months old. I am still growing. I am still learning. I can be playful and bouncy, so while I may be gentle, I am also fluff with momentum at times. Energy level? A solid 3. I know. I look like I should be scaling mountains and wrestling coyotes before breakfast. But emotionally? Spiritually? I am more “soft background music and a good nap” than “parkour champion.” I’m not here to run marathons. I’m here to supervise your household with mild interest and then settle in for a cuddle shift. So if you’re looking for a high-octane, zoomie-fueled chaos gremlin… respectfully, that is not my brand. If you’re looking for calm, steady, affectionate, and emotionally available with occasional light activity. Congratulations. You found your girl. Car rides? Please. I was born to be a passenger princess . Once I’m in? I am a chill co-pilot. I enjoy looking out the window, monitoring traffic, judging other drivers silently, and occasionally sniffing the breeze like I’m in a coming-of-age movie. If you need a road trip buddy who won’t argue about the music and won’t ask, “Are we there yet?” every six minutes…I am accepting applications. ;) Leash manners? Oh, I don’t mean to brag… but I am basically a fluffy little professional. I love walks, but in a refined, dignified manner. I’m not trying to break land speed records — I’m just out here stretching my legs, monitoring the neighborhood, and occasionally sniffing something important. Adventure seeker? Let’s not get carried away. I am what you would call a refined homebody with selective outdoor interests. I prefer the “casual stroll followed by immediate couch snuggle” lifestyle. I love curling up next to you for a good movie. Long, intense excursions? Hard pass. Short, enjoyable walks with a prompt return to the couch kingdom? Perfect. So if you’re an adrenaline junkie looking for a trail-blazing sidekick, I may not be your girl. But if you want a loyal, affectionate, couch-snuggling co-star who appreciates fresh air in reasonable portions...I will start warming up the couch for you. Overall temperament? Happy-go-lucky fluff a master’s degree in cuddling. My hugs are slow, lean-in, heart-melting events. I don’t body slam. I embrace. I’m silly. I’m affectionate. I’m playful without being overwhelming. I’m a goofball who can roll in the grass one minute and rest my head on you like you are my entire emotional support system the next. Fence or no fence? I’m versatile. I walk beautifully on a leash. If you take me out consistently and give me attention, I can absolutely thrive without a fenced yard. Now… do I enjoy being outside? Yes. I’m a Great Pyrenees. Fresh air, light yard patrols, casual sunbathing — it speaks to me. So a securely fenced yard is always a lovely bonus. It allows me to supervise the breeze at my leisure. But I don’t require acreage and livestock (we’ve learned lessons there). I require structure, consistency, and humans who pay attention. Commands? Yes, I am not just a pretty face. I know sit, wait, here, and bring. So yes. I have skills. I have manners. I have potential. And I will happily demonstrate all of the above… for the right compensation package. Potty trained? Yes, I am a lady after all. As long as you continue taking me out consistently and don’t expect me to magically teleport to the yard on my own, we will have zero issues. Kennel? Yes, I’ve been kenneled. And no, I do not stage dramatic protests. If you present a treat, I will enter my chamber willingly like royalty accepting accommodations. Do I chew on things I shouldn’t? No. I know...I know...quite impressive right? As long as I have appropriate toys and you continue being a responsible human who provides them, I have zero interest in interior destruction. Do I bark? Listen, I am a Great Pyrenees. Silence is not in our official job description. But I am not out here hosting a 24/7 talk show. For the most part, I’m pretty quiet. I don’t bark just to hear my own voice. I save it for when I feel there is something worth noting. If you have made it this far, congratulations. You are clearly emotionally prepared for 44 pounds of a soft cloud that will look at you ike you hung the moon. Now here’s the part where you don’t just whisper “aww” and scroll away. If you would like to apply for the position of Lucibelle’s Forever Human, you will need to fill out an adoption application at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app. Do not comment "I want". Do not send smoke signals. Fill. Out. The. Application. Then — and this is important — you will need to come pick me up in Oklahoma City. I will not Uber to you. I am a passenger princess, not a delivery service. So if you’re ready for a sweet, snuggly, low-energy, emotionally supportive fluffy queen who has retired from poultry management and is ready for her forever couch… Go apply. I’ll be here. Waiting patiently. Probably napping. Love Lucibelle

Ah yes. Donald Pup. Valentine’s Day is approaching, and Donald is very much the shy, nerdy kid standing in the hallway clutching a crumpled note that says “Do you maybe possibly want to be my Valentine? Circle yes or absolutely yes.” At first glance, he’s a little reserved. Polite. Quiet. The type who needs a moment to assess the situation, make sure the vibes are good, and confirm you’re not about to laugh at him in front of the whole cafeteria. He takes things slowly, watches carefully, and works up the courage one deep breath at a time. But once those nerves settle? Oh buddy. Game over. Because the second Donald decides you’re safe, he transforms into a full-blown teddy bear with zero concept of personal space. He loves being held. Pick him up and he doesn’t just relax—he melts. Like warm chocolate. Like a puppy-shaped weighted blanket. Like he’s been waiting his whole life for someone to scoop him up and say, “You’re mine now.” And just when you think he’s all soft glances and gentle cuddles, he sprinkles in a little silliness—just enough to keep you smiling and wondering how you got this emotionally attached so fast. The longer you look at him, the harder it gets to stop. First it’s his cute face. Then it’s his sweet, cautious nature. Then suddenly you’re in love with his whole personality and planning your future together. Let’s talk about Donald Pup, because the audacity of his backstory needs to be addressed. Donald is a 7-week-old, 8-lb male Pyr/Lab mix who somehow—somehow—ended up in the shelter with his sister Daisy. Yes. A literal baby. A marshmallow with legs. A creature whose only crimes include being unbearably cute and possibly not knowing what taxes are yet. And yet, there he was. In the slammer. For the absolutely unforgivable offense of someone deciding they didn’t want him. We would like to formally state for the record that this is an absolute offense against humanity, and we will be pressing charges emotionally. Because look at him. This is not a dog who should know what a shelter is. This is a dog who should only know warm blankets, gentle cuddles, and being told he’s perfect approximately 47 times a day. Thankfully, that chapter is closed. Donald is with us now, and his future is bright. We’re talking a lifetime of “awwww” reactions, soft kisses, and people falling in love with him five seconds after meeting him. He’s sweet. He’s gentle. He’s got that soulful, tender energy that makes you look at him and immediately think, “Yep. That’s my soul dog.” And listen—we already know. When we reach out for an update someday, this will be the dog whose adopter sends us photos with captions like “I can’t imagine life without him". Around other dogs, he starts off in polite introvert mode. A little shy. A little “I’m just going to stand over here and observe the vibes.” But give him a minute, and suddenly he’s clocked in for puppy playtime, happily bouncing around with the other puppies in his foster home. Cats remain an unconfirmed mystery. He has not met one yet. We cannot confirm whether he will be respectful, confused, or simply assume it is a strangely shaped dog. Kids, on the other hand, are likely to get the absolute best version of him. Donald is calm, gentle, and surprisingly polite for someone who still fits in the “tiny potato” category. He does technically possess sharp puppy teeth—because biology—but so far he has chosen to use them responsibly. Donald’s personality can best be described as soft-spoken sweetheart with a very strong cuddle agenda. He’s a little shy at first—the kind of guy who needs a minute to read the room and make sure no one’s about to hurt his feelings. He prefers to take things slow, build trust, and then… boom. Once he’s comfortable, he flips the switch and turns into pure affection. Pick him up and he doesn’t just relax—he fully dissolves. Like a puppy-shaped marshmallow. Resistance is futile. Energy-wise, he’s sitting comfortably at about a 5 out of 10. Calm. Laid-back. Not here to cause problems. He’s mostly content to exist peacefully, soak up affection, and vibe. That said, this rating may increase slightly as he settles in and discovers the full range of his puppy powers—but for now, he’s more “gentle teddy bear” than “chaotic gremlin.” Right now, Donald is a shy little gentleman with excellent intentions and absolutely no life experience. Your job is to help him grow into the kind of polite, well-mannered, emotionally stable dog who makes your family member—yes, the one who once said “you do not need another dog”—suddenly show up unannounced “just to say hi” and then stay for two hours to cuddle him. You will need to show him the world is not scary, the floor is not lava, and strangers are just future admirers he hasn’t met yet. People, dogs, kids, new places, weird noises, and yes—that suspicious trash bin that appears every week and deserves side-eye until proven harmless. Training? Yes, that too. Donald is not secretly studying obedience while you sleep. He’s a blank slate. A soft little sponge. A puppy with great intentions and absolutely no idea what’s expected of him yet. With guidance, consistency, and kindness, he’ll soak it all up and turn into the kind of dog you can take anywhere So here’s the deal: if you’ve read all of this and thought, “Wow. I would absolutely rearrange my life for this puppy,” then congratulations — you are Donald Pup’s target audience. He’s sweet, gentle, cuddly, emotionally available, and already practicing his future role as someone’s soul dog. Now for the slightly less romantic part. If you want to adopt this tiny heart-stealer, you must fill out an adoption application at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app This is not optional. This is how we make sure Donald ends up with the right human and how we send your info to his foster family. Please do not attempt to telepathically claim him. We’ve tried. It doesn’t work. And yes — pickup will be in Skiatook, OK. No, we cannot beam him directly to your house. He will not Uber. He is eight pounds and has no credit card. Do the application. Come to Skiatook. Meet Donald. Fall hopelessly in love.

Sabrina Carpenter. No, I may not be a famous singer. But I am gorgeous, and I do specialize in soft eye contact and emotional support staring. You’re welcome. Let’s just clear something up right away: I am not here for drama. I am not here for chaos. I am here for gentle vibes, cozy naps, and a human who understands that I am, in fact, a delicate flower in a slightly furry package. I am what the professionals call a “sweet, gentle, sensitive soul.” Instead of touring the world, I was touring… a shelter kennel. For six months. Six. Whole. Months. Since the beginning of August. Behind bars. Watching other dogs come and go. Listening to the echo of barking. Trying to convince myself that maybe tomorrow would be my day. Do you know what that does to a girl? Before that? I was probably a country girl. No real home. Just roaming the countryside like some independent farm-chic heroine in a coming-of-age film. Except instead of a soundtrack and a happy ending, I mostly got “shoo!” and “go on!” and a lot of dust in my fur. So, yes, you could say that I’m figuring out how to be part of a family. I’m a sensitive soul under all this fluff. I notice tones. I read body language. I think before I leap. I’m not the kind of girl who crashes into your life like a wrecking ball. I sort of… tiptoe in. Sit nearby. Watch. Then slowly decide, “Okay. I think I’ll love you now.” But I’m learning. Every day I’m trying. I don’t need perfection. I need patience. I need someone who understands that half a year in a kennel and a lifetime of being “the stray” doesn’t just disappear overnight. I am a 1.5-year-old, 73-pound female Pyr/Poodle mix, which means I am equal parts majestic mountain guardian and emotionally complex curly-haired intellectual. With other dogs, I’m what you might call the cool, aloof type. I don’t immediately join every group chat. I don’t attend every backyard wrestling match. I don’t throw myself into chaotic zoomie festivals with strangers like some kind of social butterfly with no standards. I observe. I assess. Once I decide I like another dog, I’m playful, appropriate, and actually pretty fun. I just don’t believe in forced friendships. Chemistry matters. So yes — I get along with other dogs. But I’m not here for nonsense. How do I do with cats? I don’t bother them. They exist. I exist. We coexist. I’m not chasing them, interrogating them, or trying to insert myself into their mysterious little feline business meetings. They can keep their high shelves and judgmental stares. I’ll keep my snacks and my dignity. Have I been around kids? Let's see, there is Sam. Sixteen years old. Lovely human, I’m sure. But she is… tall. And teenage. And moves like someone who has never had to survive on her own in the wild and then half a year in a shelter contemplating life. Was I a little unsure? Yes. Did I file her under “large unpredictable creature”? Also yes. Now at the vet’s office, a small girl approached me. Tiny. Calm. Gentle hands. Soft energy. And I said, “Alright. You may pet the fluff.” And I allowed it. But here’s the difference: A calm kid walking up to me for 30 seconds in public? Manageable. I can rally. I can be brave. I can say, “Yes, tiny human, you may admire the fluff.” Living with a child 24/7? Entirely different plotline. That means constant movement. Noise. Friends coming over. Doors opening. Sudden hallway appearances. The possibility of being emotionally overwhelmed in my own home — which is supposed to be my safe space. And after half a year in a shelter and a lifetime of figuring things out on my own? I take my safe space very seriously. So while I can politely handle respectful children in short, calm public encounters, I would truly thrive in an adult-only home or a very quiet household where I don’t have to be “on” all the time. Given my sensitive, thoughtful, “let me process this first” personality, I would be happiest in a home without kids. Energy level? Oh. We are sitting at a solid 4. I enjoy a nice stroll. A little backyard exploration. A refined game of chase with a vetted member of my inner circle. But after that? I would very much like to lie down and reflect on my day. Marathon fetch sessions in 98-degree weather? That sounds like something a Labrador would sign up for. I support them from a shaded area. I’m 73 pounds of fluff with a thoughtful heart and a moderate battery life. I don’t need constant stimulation. I need quality interaction. A walk, some sniffing, a little enrichment, and then I’m perfectly content to exist near you while you do your human things. If your dream dog is one who runs 12 miles before breakfast, we are not aligned. If your dream dog is one who enjoys a reasonable amount of activity followed by world-class lounging and soulful eye contact..I am your girl. Adventure-seeker or homebody? Homebody. Without hesitation. Listen… I have done the roaming thing. I have done the “out in the elements” era. I have done the “who knows where I’m sleeping tonight” storyline. These days? I prefer climate control. A consistent couch. The same four walls. A yard I recognize. A routine I can set my emotional clock by. Could I go on an outing? Sure. I do quite well out in public settings but do I want to live a life of always being on the move....that would be a no. Now, I kind of like car rides. I jump right in. Once I’m in, I settle. I observe. I take in the scenery like the thoughtful passenger princess that I am. So if you’re worried I’ll need to be hoisted like a reluctant sack of potatoes? Incorrect. I load myself. Because I am independent. But in a dignified way. Ah yes. Let’s discuss my personality — layered, nuanced, slightly dramatic, but ultimately very soft. With people, I’m a little unsure at first. I watch. I process. I keep a respectful distance while I gather data. But here’s the important part: You can see it in my eyes — I want the love. I want the pets. I want to lean into your hand and exhale like, “Okay… maybe this is safe.” I just need a minute. I’m a sweet, gentle, sensitive soul. The kind that bonds deeply once I know you’re steady. Once I trust you, I soften in the most beautiful way. I’ll come closer. I’ll rest near you. I’ll quietly choose you. I’m not the dog who crashes into your lap on day one. I’m the dog who earns her trust — and then gives you her whole heart. Would I thrive best with a securely fenced yard, or would I do well in an apartment with “regular leash walks”? Let’s not overcomplicate this. Yes. I need a fenced yard. I am a former country girl who has already done the “wander the countryside and hope for the best” phase. We are not revisiting that storyline. A fenced yard means safety. Predictability. The ability to step outside, sniff the air dramatically, and handle my business without feeling like I’m auditioning for another season of “Lost & Alone.” Could I technically be leash-walked multiple times a day in an apartment setting? Maybe. But remember — I’m a sensitive, thoughtful homebody who likes routine and controlled environments. A fenced yard gives me space to decompress without extra pressure. Do I know any commands? First of all, I prefer the term “life skills.” Yes. I know sit. Because I am a lady. And I know paw. Which is essentially me offering you my hand in a formal introduction. Very refined. Very dignified. Very “nice to meet you, please admire the fluff.” So yes, I know sit. I know paw. And I absolutely have the capacity to learn more. Just remember: I respond best to kindness, patience, and the understanding that I am choosing to cooperate with you. Am I potty trained? Yes. Because I am a civilized woman. Have I been kenneled? Also yes. And I am, as stated, a model citizen in it. Do I prefer being out with my people? Obviously. I did not wait half a year in a shelter to voluntarily choose isolation. But if a kennel is part of the routine, I handle it like a mature adult. Do I chew on things I shouldn’t? Excuse me? No. I am 1.5 years old. I am 73 pounds. I have survived rural independence and six months in a shelter. I am not out here gnawing on baseboards like a teething goblin. I have dignity. Do I bark? Yes. But I am not out here hosting a TED Talk every time a leaf moves. I am what you would call the strong, silent type. I speak when necessary. When there is an actual reason. When something requires commentary. And now… the part where I pretend I’m not deeply invested in you choosing me. If you want a soulful, sensitive, homebody queen who will sit politely, offer her paw like a Victorian lady, and guard your peace with quiet loyalty? I am her. Now, if you want to adopt me you need to fill out an adoption application. Yes. Paperwork. I know. Apparently they don’t just hand over 73 pounds of emotionally complex fluff to anyone who says, “Aww.” Once you apply, the rescue will send your app to my foster family — because they know me best and want to make sure its the Pyrfect fit for everyone involved. And when you are approved? You will need to pick me up in Hutchinson, KS. Fill out the app at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app Come get me, your future soul dog and the one that people won't be able to stop talking about much like my namesake.

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