Leonberger 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.

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.

Hi, I’m Sierra. Yes, that Sierra, mama of the Mountain Pups. Named after mountains, which honestly feels appropriate because I carry myself with the calm, quiet grace of a snow-covered peak… if that peak also enjoyed gentle pets and occasionally leaning against people like a living weighted blanket. I specialize in soft eyes, gentle vibes, and quietly melting into your personal space like a very polite little shadow. I’m the kind of girl who will come say hello with the sweetest little demeanor, look at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and then stick close because clearly my life’s purpose is to be a tiny ambassador of kindness. If you’ve been hoping for a soft-hearted little companion who radiates calm, kindness, and the emotional warmth of a freshly baked cinnamon roll…well. Hi. I’m Sierra. And I believe I might be exactly what you’re looking for. 🐾 I am a 2-year-old, 70-pound Great Pyrenees who is still a little surprised that humans actually… want me.I know, I know. That sounds dramatic. But hear me out. Not too long ago, I was out there on my own raising my puppies after we were abandoned. (Motherhood is exhausting, by the way. Would not recommend doing it alone.) The good news is that all of my babies have been adopted, which I am very proud of. I raised some pretty wonderful little fluffballs-in-training. Anywho. When I first arrived at my foster home, something became very clear: I didn’t really understand that people talk to me. Not just around me. Not to another dog. To me. When the humans called my name, I didn’t respond. And it wasn’t because I was being stubborn or pretending not to hear them. It was because… well… it genuinely never occurred to me that anyone would be calling for me. You see, if you’ve spent your whole life being the dog nobody notices, the one nobody chooses, you just sort of assume your name is… irrelevant. But then something strange started happening. The humans kept talking to me. They kept calling me over. They kept telling me I was a good girl. And slowly — very slowly — I started realizing something pretty amazing: They meant me. They actually wanted me to come to them. They wanted me to interact. They wanted me nearby. Turns out humans can be pretty wonderful once you figure out that they’re talking directly to you. Not long after I was rescued, the humans also discovered that I’m heartworm positive. Which, honestly, isn’t very surprising for a dog who probably never had a real home or regular care before. But the kind people at Pyr Paws N Fluffy Tails Rescue are taking care of everything and helping me get healthy again. Apparently I’m worth fixing up, which is a concept I’m still wrapping my head around. I’m still the same gentle, sweet girl I’ve always been — I just didn’t know before that anyone might appreciate that about me. But now I do. And if you’re the kind of person who believes every dog deserves to feel chosen at least once in their life…Well. I’d really like that to be my turn. 🐾 I coexist very nicely with the other dogs here. No drama, no rude introductions, no reality-show level squabbles. I’m more of a “hello fellow canine citizen, I acknowledge your presence” type of girl. Now, have I started running around playing with them like a wild backyard hooligan yet? Not exactly. But in my defense, when I arrived here I wasn’t exactly feeling my best. Between raising puppies, being abandoned, and showing up in pretty rough shape, my main focus was less “let’s host a zoomie festival” and more “maybe I’ll just rest and recover for a minute.” The humans seem to think that once I’m feeling better and fully settled, my playful side will probably start making more appearances. So if you’re looking for a playmate to keep your dog busy 24/7, I just want to manage expectations right now… I am not that girl. At least not currently. I’m more of a calm, respectful housemate who appreciates peaceful company and good manners. Now could that change as I continue healing, gaining strength, and realizing life is allowed to be fun? Quite possibly. But for the moment, I’m operating in my “gentle soul, quiet observer, recovering-from-life phase.” How do I do with cats? I’m aware of them. They exist. They move around the house. Occasionally they stare at me like tiny, judgmental landlords. And my official response to all of that is: complete and utter indifference. Have I been around kids since coming into foster care? No. That said, the humans here think I would probably do just fine with older, gentle kids who understand that I’m a sensitive, calm kind of girl. You know — the type of kids who can appreciate a sweet dog without turning the living room into a full-contact sporting event. Because while I am very gentle and sweet, I am also still figuring out this whole “being loved and living in a house” thing. Extremely loud, chaotic, or rambunctious environments might be a bit of sensory overload for me right now. I’m more of a peaceful-vibes, calm-energy, respectful-companionship kind of dog. My energy level is sitting comfortably at about a 3, which means I enjoy a nice stroll, a little fresh air, and then immediately returning to my regularly scheduled programming of being calm and existing peacefully. Now don’t get me wrong — I’m not a statue. I do enjoy moving around and exploring a bit. But I’m not looking to run a triathlon before breakfast either. My ideal pace in life is more along the lines of: “Let’s go outside, stretch the legs a bit, appreciate the weather… and then return indoors to relax like the refined lady that I am.” Adventure-seeker or homebody? Now before anyone gets too excited and starts planning cross-country hiking trips, let me remind you that I only recently discovered things like soft beds, regular meals, and humans who call my name because they actually want me. So naturally, my current life goals revolve around enjoying the safety and comfort of a home and soaking up this whole “being cared for” experience. Could that change as I continue to heal and start feeling better and stronger? Possibly. I might discover that I enjoy a little exploring here and there. Maybe a nice walk, a bit of yard supervision, the occasional dignified adventure. But for now? I am all about the homebody life. How would I describe my overall temperament? I’m basically a soft marshmallow in a large, fluffy dog body. I’m calm, kind, and generally prefer a peaceful approach to life. Fenced yard or leash walks? At this point in my life journey, the humans think I would do best with a securely fenced yard. You see, while I’m learning many exciting things about being a loved indoor dog, I am still a little unsure about the world outside my comfort zone. Being taken on leash walks through unfamiliar places might feel a bit overwhelming for me right now. Am I potty trained? Yes. I would like the record to clearly reflect that I am, in fact, a civilized member of society. Have I been kenneled before? No. It has not been necessary. Do I chew on things I shouldn’t? No. So far I have shown zero interest in redecorating the house with my teeth. No couch experiments, no shoe taste tests, no attempts to dismantle household electronics. Frankly, it all seems like a lot of unnecessary effort. I prefer a more dignified approach to indoor living. You provide the house… I graciously agree not to destroy it. It’s what we call a mutually beneficial arrangement. Do I bark? Yes. I am, after all, a Great Pyrenees, not a decorative throw pillow. My barking is primarily reserved for situations where I hear unfamiliar noises. You know… the suspicious things. The questionable sounds. Now, do I stand around yelling at absolutely nothing for hours on end? No. I’m far too refined for that. But if something unusual happens, I do feel it is my civic duty to notify the household. So if you’ve read my story and thought, “Yes. That’s my girl.” then wonderful news — the next step is simple. All you have to do is fill out the adoption application at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app The humans insist on it because apparently they want to make sure I go to a home where I’ll be loved and appreciated and not returned because someone forgot that Great Pyrenees come with fur, opinions, and a built-in security system. Once you complete the application, the nice people at the rescue will send it over to my foster family so they can review it and decide if you are worthy of my gentle, sweet presence. If everything checks out, you’ll then make the very exciting journey to Kiowa, OK to pick me up and officially begin your new life with a 70-pound fluffy emotional support specialist. So go ahead. Fill out the application. Be brave. Take the leap. After all… I’ve waited my whole life for someone to choose me. Sierra 🐾