Pacific’s Story — as told by Pacific herself (a 1-year-old Great Pyrenees girl with oversized feet, a tender little heart, the soul of a retired grandmother wrapped in a fluffy young dog body, and enough quiet sweetness to make your entire nervous system unclench), currently accepting applications for the role of “Person Who Will Tell Me I’m Safe Forever.” Being fostered in Sand Springs, Oklahoma Apply to adopt me: https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app 🐾 Hello there. I would like to start this introduction by clarifying that while my name is Pacific, I am not actually an ocean. Although, emotionally? I do bring the same vibe. Calm. Peaceful. Mildly therapeutic. I am very, very sweet and calm. The kind of girl who makes people immediately say, “Oh my gosh, she’s SO gentle,” approximately thirty seconds after meeting me. My hobbies include relaxing, accepting affection like it is my full-time career, and looking at people with the softest expression that seems to always melt hearts. I am a 1-year-old, approximately 55lb female Great Pyrenees who, quite frankly, has already lived through enough nonsense for about seven lifetimes. You know how some dogs get cute little origin stories? “Oh, she came from a loving home and enjoys organic treats and lavender baths.” Adorable. Love that for them. Meanwhile, my story started with being abandoned while trying to keep myself and my puppies alive. We were absolutely covered in ticks. And when I say covered, I mean even after over 100 ticks were removed from us, there were STILL more to find. One of my puppies, Wild Cherry, almost didn’t survive because of how severe it was. She had to be hospitalized and receive a blood transfusion just to save her life. We all had so many intestinal parasites that one round of dewormer basically looked at the situation and said, “Absolutely not, I quit.” Glorious, right? But somehow, despite all of that, I stayed sweet. And now? I’m in a foster home learning what it means to just…be a dog. Turns out couches are nice. Being safe is nice. Having humans who feed you regularly instead of survival-mode scavenging? Also very nice. This whole “part of the family” thing is completely new to me, but honestly? I am loving this new life of mine. I did come into rescue pretty emaciated, so while I’m currently around 55lbs, my we expect I’ll probably settle closer to the 70lb range once I’m healthy and fully filled out. So no, I’m not one of those “accidentally crush your furniture by sitting on it” giant Pyrs. I’m more like the perfect medium-sized cloud. Enough fluff and softness to make hugging me feel like your nervous system just got a factory reset. Speaking of home life, I know it usually comes with some animal friends and potentially even some tiny hoomans so let's dive in to my interactions with them, shall we? When it comes to other dogs, I prefer roommates over professional wrestling opponents. You know the type… the ones who come flying at your face like they just shotgunned three energy drinks and are ready to body slam someone through a folding table? Yeah. Hard pass. Now calm dogs? Respectful dogs? Dogs who understand the beauty of quietly existing together while collectively following the humans from room to room like a fluffy little security detail? Those are my people. I’m perfectly happy napping near other dogs, hanging out beside them, and joining the adorable entourage parade every time someone gets up to go to the kitchen. As for cats, I haven’t officially shared living quarters with any yet, so I cannot provide a full peer-reviewed study on the matter. However, I have seen my neighbor’s outdoor cats and, unlike some dogs who react like they’ve just spotted an international criminal scaling the fence line, I’ve been very calm and non-reactive. As for tiny humans, I haven’t had the opportunity to meet any kids yet, so my foster family cannot officially confirm whether I’d become their loyal fluffy guardian, personal shadow, or mildly judgmental nap supervisor. That being said, given my calm and gentle personality, they suspect I would likely do best with respectful children who understand that I am not, in fact, a trampoline, jungle gym, or oversized stuffed animal brought to life by Disney magic. Honestly, I’m still learning this whole “safe family life” thing myself, so slow introductions, kindness, and a calmer environment would probably help me settle in best. I’ve already survived enough drama for one lifetime. At this point, I’m aiming for soft beds, peaceful vibes, and people who say things like “good girl” approximately seventeen times a day. As for my energy level, I would personally rank myself somewhere around a solid 3 out of 10. I’m not lazy exactly… I just believe in conserving energy for important activities, like emotional healing, supervised snacking, and dramatically sighing while laying in sunbeams. If you are searching for a dog to train for mountain climbing, marathon running, or one of those couples who wake up at 4:30 AM to “hit the trails before sunrise,” I am probably not your girl. Frankly, I think hiking sounds like a wonderful way to encounter both cardio and mosquitoes. While I may eventually enjoy little outings here and there once I’m more comfortable, my foster family suspects I’ll probably always lean more “cozy homebody” than “adventure influencer.” I just don’t see myself becoming one of those dogs scaling cliffs at sunrise while wearing expensive hiking gear and posing for Instagram. Now peaceful homebody activities? Excellent. Elite, even. I do ride well in the car, though. Technically, I require what my foster mom lovingly calls a “booty boost” to get inside because apparently my back end occasionally forgets we’re participating in this activity together. But once I’m in there? Absolute dream passenger. Truthfully, underneath all the fluff and sarcastic commentary, I am just a very, very sweet and sensitive girl still figuring out how to feel safe in the world. I bond deeply to my people and want to be near them most of the time, quietly following along from room to room like a gentle little emotional support shadow. But because life wasn’t exactly kind to me early on, I can still get overwhelmed sometimes. When that happens, I tend to retreat and give myself space to decompress for a bit. And have I mentioned that I am quite sensitive? One time my foster mom stubbed her toe and reacted verbally— not at me, mind you, just at the universe in general —and I immediately hit the floor showing my belly like, “I WOULD LIKE TO FORMALLY APOLOGIZE FOR WHATEVER JUST HAPPENED.” So it’s pretty clear that while my body may eventually fill out to 70lbs, emotionally I am still just a tender little marshmallow trying her best. Honestly, there are still so many normal “dog things” I’m discovering for the very first time. Toys? Apparently those are a thing. My foster family keeps offering them to me and I look at them like someone just handed me tax paperwork. I haven’t quite figured out why everyone seems so emotionally invested in stuffed squeaky animals. I know size wise I may seem like a great candiate for apartment living, but because of my sensitive nature and continued adjustment to the world around me, my foster family does feel I would do best with a securely fenced yard — ideally with a little privacy too. Leash walking is improving, but having a safe, predictable outdoor space where I can relax and build confidence without feeling exposed would help me tremendously. At the end of the day, I’m not asking for a perfect life. I don’t need mountain adventures or constant excitement. I think what I really want is something much simpler than that. A soft place to land. A calm home. And maybe, eventually, someone patient enough to explain why squeaky stuffed animals are apparently considered entertainment. Despite everything I’ve been through, I really am trying very hard to learn how to just…be somebody’s dog. I’m already picking up on routines and expectations in my foster home, and while I may not arrive with a résumé full of advanced obedience titles and LinkedIn endorsements, I am learning. I’m incredibly polite. I don’t jump all over people, I don’t act wild in the house, and I genuinely just want to quietly exist near my humans. I also appear to be potty trained. I haven’t had any accidents in the house, although I should mention I’m not exactly the type to dramatically ring bells or file formal restroom requests. My approach is a little more subtle. Think “quietly staring into the distance and hoping you pick up the vibe. One thing that’s actually become very important to me is having a safe little space of my own. I do well in a kennel and will go into it nicely. I don’t really bark, but every time I hear fire trucks, I sing the song of my people. Apparently I have a very impressive vocal range and enjoy contributing emotionally to emergency response situations from inside the house. And maybe my foster family’s favorite thing about me? My giant feet. They don’t quite match the rest of my body yet, which makes me look like a little girl trying to walk around in her mama’s shoes. I do this tiny delicate tippy-toe prance that somehow manages to be both adorable and slightly ridiculous at the same time. It’s impossible not to smile watching it. At the end of the day, I’m still healing. Still learning. Still figuring out that love doesn’t disappear overnight and meals keep coming tomorrow too. But underneath all of that uncertainty is a truly sweet, gentle girl who gives soft kisses, loves being pet, and wants so badly to trust the world again. And honestly? I think she deserves the chance to.