Thatch

It is I. The soft-spoken woodland prince you didn’t know you were missing. My name is Thatch, and I come from the very exclusive Fairy Hollow Litter — which sounds magical because it is. I personally bring the “gentle forest spirit who accidentally trips over his own feet” energy to the group. I have this very sweet, soulful way about me that makes humans say things like, “He’s so calm,” and “He feels special,” and “Why does he look like he understands my taxes?” I don’t understand your taxes. But I would sit beside you while you cry about them. <br/><br/>I am 11 weeks old and 18 pounds of future majestic greatness. Currently compact. So fluffy and cute that you cannot help but say "awww: and "I want". Emotionally wise beyond my weeks. Now, let's clear up the Fairy Hollow mystery since some of you are investigators. Yes, I am part of the Fairy Hollow Litter. No, we are not all from one single, perfectly labeled, color-coded litter. We are two litters born about a week apart. Were we handed an organized spreadsheet detailing who came from which mama? Absolutely not. If a possible seven-day age difference is going to send you into a genealogical spiral, I gently encourage you to scroll on, my friend. We are rescue puppies, not a controlled lab experiment. Here’s what actually matters. I came into rescue because nature did what nature does and humans got overwhelmed. We were running in and out of the road, playing a very unsafe version of Frogger, and some incredible volunteers stepped in before something tragic happened. Because of them — and PPFT — both of our moms are getting spayed, and the three other adults on the property are also getting altered. That’s how rescue is supposed to work. Fix the problem at the root. Protect the future. Save the babies. Now back to me. Right now? I am adorable. Soft. Squishy. Hugging me immediately improves your mood. I have very strong “therapy dog energy.” The kind where you bury your face in my neck and suddenly your blood pressure drops and your problems feel 12% smaller. With real training, I could probably become an actual certified therapy dog. I have that gentle, calm, slightly soulful thing going on. But here’s the part I need you to really hear: The puppy fluff? It will thin out. The baby face? It will stretch into handsome adult dog features. I will enter an awkward teenage phase where my legs are too long, my ears may not cooperate, and I might briefly look like I was assembled from spare parts. And when that happens? I need you to still love me. We are not in this for the fluff. We are not in this for the Instagram-ready baby phase. We are in this for life. Kay? <br/><br/>I’m excellent at dog politics. I love other dogs. Big dogs. Little dogs. Confident dogs. Slightly dramatic dogs. I am what you might call… diplomatically laid back. I enjoy playtime, absolutely. I will engage. I will wrestle. I will frolic in a respectable, gentlemanly manner. I am the friend who comes to the party, has a great time, and then leaves at a reasonable hour to protect my peace. So if you’ve got another dog? Great. I’ll be their chill coworker. Their respectful sibling. Their laid-back playmate. Ah yes. The feline question. Have I lived with cats? No. can tell you is this: I am a calm, laid-back gentleman. I’m not out here trying to run anyone’s kingdom. I don’t even want to run the dog group chat. So odds are, I would likely approach a cat with my usual energy of, “Hello. You look funny, wanna be friends?" Have I been around kids? Yes. I have been thoroughly evaluated by two resident small humans: one 6-year-old boy and one 8-year-old girl. I am very relaxed about the whole operation. I allow the cuddles. I accept the lifting (for now — that probably won't last too much longer). I tolerate toy redistribution without filing complaints. The official vibe I give off? Gentle guardian energy. So yes, I am kid approved. Just remember: today I am 18 pounds of portable fluff. Tomorrow I am a slighy larger fluffball and so on. The cuddles stay. The lifting eventually retires. Me thinking I am still a tiny puppy and not understanding I am too big to fit in your lap? Stays. Plan accordingly. <br/><br/>Energy Level Scale: 4 What does that mean? It means I enjoy playtime. I will engage. I will trot around the yard like the majestic woodland creature I am. I will wrestle politely. I will chew a toy with purpose. And then? I recharge. I nap. I observe. I reflect on my future as a large, fluffy guardian of the realm. I do not require constant entertainment. I do not need a marathon runner. I do not wake up choosing velocity. I am more “steady presence” than “human cardio coach.” Adventure-seeker or homebody? I will wander the yard like I am surveying land I plan to inherit one day. I’ll sniff. I’ll patrol. I’ll stand dramatically and look off into the distance. However. I would also like to know where my people are at all times. If everyone goes inside and I am left alone with the wind and my thoughts? I will absolutely reconsider my wilderness phase and return indoors to check the group chat. Once I’ve had my fill of fresh air and existential pondering, I am very happy to come inside and resume my position as Indoor Emotional Support Fluffball. Honestly, I am what you might call “go with the flow but prefer to be near my humans.” I am not here to drag you up mountains. I am here to accompany you wherever you go and make it feel calmer. Adventure is fine. Home is great. Being with my people? Elite. Overall temperament? Soft. Sweet. Steady. Slightly awkward woodland prince with excellent vibes. Play a little. Love a lot. Nap strategically. Goofy in a “these legs were issued before I fully read the instructions” kind of way. <br/><br/>Securely fenced yard or apartment life? Excellent question. Bold of you to assume I’ve fully formed my housing preferences at this tender age. At this exact moment? I am still very young. Currently 18 pounds of potential with oversized paws and big-dog genetics loading in the background. Would I thrive with a securely fenced yard? Sure. I am a Great Pyrenees mix. One day I will be large. I will have guardian instincts. Having a safe space to roam and sniff and dramatically scan the horizon would be lovely. Could I do well in a home without a fence if you’re committed to regular leash walks, structure, and supervision? Also possible. So the official answer is: Too young to make sweeping real estate declarations. But long-term? Secure. Structured. Committed humans > specific yard dimensions. What will my new family need to be prepared for? I am a baby. A very emotionally supportive, future majestic guardian baby. You will need to potty train me. You will need to puppy-proof your home. Because I explore. With my mouth. As nature intended. If your houseplant mysteriously disappears, that’s on your risk management strategy, not my character. You will need to socialize me. Expose me to the world in a calm, positive, structured way so I grow into the confident, steady Great Pyrenees mix I’m meant to be. You will need to train me. Not with chaos. Not with frustration. With consistency. With patience. With leadership. Because I’m going to be a big boy, and big boys don’t raise themselves. You’re not just adopting a puppy. You’re shaping a future 80+ pound companion who will guard your home, love your family, and probably question your decisions with thoughtful eye contact. So yes. Be ready. Because I’m worth doing it right. <br/><br/>So here’s the deal. If you want a puppy who brings therapy-dog energy without the chaos, who loves other dogs, is gentle with kids, shares his toys like a functioning member of society, and prefers peace over drama… again, hi. It’s me. Now. Let’s talk logistics. You must fill out an adoption application like the responsible adult I’m hoping you are. Because that’s how we send it to my foster family. Because that’s how we make sure I land somewhere worthy of my majestic future. Once approved, you will need to come pick me up in Tulsa, OK. I will not be teleporting. I will not be shipped via woodland fairy courier.<br/><br/>Fill out the app at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app<br/>Schedule the pickup.<br/><br/>Love,<br/>Thatch<br/>18 lbs of current perfection

It is I. The soft-spoken woodland prince you didn’t know you were missing. My name is Thatch, and I come from the very exclusive Fairy Hollow Litter — which sounds magical because it is. I personally bring the “gentle forest spirit who accidentally trips over his own feet” energy to the group. I have this very sweet, soulful way about me that makes humans say things like, “He’s so calm,” and “He feels special,” and “Why does he look like he understands my taxes?” I don’t understand your taxes. But I would sit beside you while you cry about them.

I am 11 weeks old and 18 pounds of future majestic greatness. Currently compact. So fluffy and cute that you cannot help but say "awww: and "I want". Emotionally wise beyond my weeks. Now, let's clear up the Fairy Hollow mystery since some of you are investigators. Yes, I am part of the Fairy Hollow Litter. No, we are not all from one single, perfectly labeled, color-coded litter. We are two litters born about a week apart. Were we handed an organized spreadsheet detailing

It is I. The soft-spoken woodland prince you didn’t know you were missing. My name is Thatch, and I come from the very exclusive Fairy Hollow Litter — which sounds magical because it is. I personally bring the “gentle forest spirit who accidentally trips over his own feet” energy to the group. I have this very sweet, soulful way about me that makes humans say things like, “He’s so calm,” and “He feels special,” and “Why does he look like he understands my taxes?” I don’t understand your taxes. But I would sit beside you while you cry about them.

I am 11 weeks old and 18 pounds of future majestic greatness. Currently compact. So fluffy and cute that you cannot help but say "awww: and "I want". Emotionally wise beyond my weeks. Now, let's clear up the Fairy Hollow mystery since some of you are investigators. Yes, I am part of the Fairy Hollow Litter. No, we are not all from one single, perfectly labeled, color-coded litter. We are two litters born about a week apart. Were we handed an organized spreadsheet detailing who came from which mama? Absolutely not. If a possible seven-day age difference is going to send you into a genealogical spiral, I gently encourage you to scroll on, my friend. We are rescue puppies, not a controlled lab experiment. Here’s what actually matters. I came into rescue because nature did what nature does and humans got overwhelmed. We were running in and out of the road, playing a ver