Ursus

My story

Meet Ursus—also known as Zeus if you're into dramatic flair and ancient deities with zero personal boundaries. This guy? He’s the CEO of Attention-Seeking Behavior, the kind of dog who assumes every human on Earth woke up today specifically to admire his existence. With a name like Zeus, you might expect regal dignity, thundering power, and maybe a lightning bolt or two—but nope. What you get instead is 87 pounds of happy-go-lucky goofball energy who thinks “personal space” is just a myth, like Bigfoot or cats that respect boundaries. Ursus isn’t just a dog. He’s a lifestyle. A full-time vibe. A walking serotonin booster with fur. Ursus is a 1.5 year old, 87lb male Bernese Mountain Dog. Ursus came to us through no fault of his own—just a case of big love and even bigger paws. His family made the difficult decision to let him go because, well… he’s a big, bouncy lovebug who doesn’t quite realize he’s not lap-sized. His family made the decision to surrender him because someone very dear to them is going through chemotherapy and has become quite frail. One day, Ursus did what happy, oversized puppies do—he followed her outside, eager to play, and in a burst of joyful zoomies, accidentally knocked her down. So, with heavy hearts and love at the center of their choice, they reached out to us to help Ursus find a new home where he can keep being the enthusiastic, lovable goofball he was born to be—without risking anyone’s well-being. If you’re wondering how Ursus does with other dogs, imagine the overly friendly guy at a party who hugs everyone—even if it’s their first time meeting—and has absolutely no sense of personal space. That’s our boy. He means well, truly, but subtlety is not in his skillset. If your dog appreciates polite introductions and firm boundaries, Ursus will be... an educational experience. As for cats, he’s indifferent. Like, “Oh, you exist? Cool, I’ll be over here licking the floor.” Tiny humans? He hasn’t been around any in his foster home, but given his personality, he’d likely adore older kids who can match his enthusiasm without tipping over like bowling pins. And when it comes to meeting new people? Ursus believes strangers are just best friends he hasn’t bulldozed yet. He’s a one-dog welcoming committee who will happily launch his 87 pounds of pure joy right into your lap. Consent optional. Ursus operates at a solid 6 out of 10 on the energy scale—right in that sweet spot between “let’s go hiking!” and “let’s nap for 6 hours after.” If he were a hybrid creature, he'd be part golden retriever, part chilled-out llama: ready to play, but not above dramatically collapsing into a sunbeam afterward like he just ran a marathon. He treats car rides like a personal invitation to greatness. Jumps in like a pro, buckles up (well, gets tethered—he hasn’t mastered buckling himself yet), and rides like he's the star of a doggy road trip movie, probably titled Floof & Furious. No whining, no theatrics, just calm co-pilot vibes. Honestly, he handles road trips better than most toddlers and at least half the adults I know. Outings? Count him in. Ursus wants to go where his people go. Coffee runs, farmers markets, awkward third dates—he’s ready. He’s not one to sit at home pondering the meaning of life from the couch (unless he already went out and got his puppuccino—then maybe he’ll consider some deep thoughts and a nap). Temperament-wise, he’s the kind of guy who thinks the world is his audience and he’s the star of a very lovable sitcom. A quirky, attention-loving goofball with the confidence of a toddler in a Batman cape and the grace of a moose in a bouncy house. He’s sweet, optimistic, and absolutely convinced everyone wants to pet him (honestly, they probably do). As far as favorite hobbies go, Ursus enjoys a little dog-to-dog mingling, but he’s not trying to host a canine rave. He likes a good play session, then he's perfectly happy to settle down and work on a bone like it’s a full-time job. No fetch obsession here—he’s more of a “you threw it, you go get it” kind of guy. And yes, he knows “sit” and “shake,” though whether he feels like performing them at any given moment is strictly between him and whatever deity he was named after. Ursus is fully potty trained—he prefers to do his business outside like the sophisticated gentleman he is. As for kenneling? Well… Ursus wouldn’t know. The concept of being confined in a crate is about as foreign to him as understanding why humans don’t want 87 pounds of fluff sprawled across their bed. He’s never been kenneled and frankly, would probably take it as a personal insult if you even suggested it. Ursus has not chewed on anything inappropriate in his foster home—because clearly, he’s an elite member of the "Good Boy Society" with refined tastes. We make no promises if you leave a sock unattended or if your TV remote starts looking at him the wrong way, but so far, he's been a gentleman. Ursus isn’t exactly the strong, silent type—he’s more of a self-appointed life narrator with a deep, booming voice and very strong opinions about doors being either open or closed when he needs to go potty and when he is ready to come in. Long story short, he uses his bark for important announcements, like “I’d like to go outside now,” “Okay, now I’d like to come back in,” and “Good morning, humans, the sun is up and so should you be.” If you’ve made it this far and are thinking, “Wow, I need this oversized goofball in my life,” congratulations—you have excellent taste. But before you start fluffing the couch cushions for his royal arrival, there’s one catch: you’ve gotta fill out an adoption application at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app (yes, paperwork—don’t worry, it’s worth it) and be willing to pick up the big guy in Kiowa, Oklahoma. That’s right, no teleportation, no Uber for dogs—just good old-fashioned road trippin’ to meet your new best friend.

If you have any questions or would like to adopt Ursus, please reach out to the adoption group directly. PetSmart Charities does not facilitate the adoption process. Thank you.