Gilligan

My story

🎶 "What’s that word again? Oh… adoption!" 🎶 Meet Gilligan—our very own fuzzy version of Ariel from The Little Mermaid—if Ariel had four legs, a luxurious Bernese coat, and the street smarts of a potato. Gilly spent his life outside, which means indoor living is brand new and, frankly, a little suspicious. Carpets? Suspicious. Ceiling fans? Suspicious. Stairs? Black magic. But does that stop him? Absolutely… sometimes. This sensitive boy is basically wandering around your living room singing “I want to be where the people are,” while nervously side-eyeing your vacuum cleaner like it might steal his soul. He’s sweet, he’s gentle, and he’s 100% confused by most things. Forks? Clearly dinglehoppers. Remote controls? Probably advanced squirrel traps. Don’t even get him started on mirrors—there may or may not be another, equally confused dog living inside them. But under all that “what-the-fluff-is-going-on” energy is a heart of gold wrapped in fluff and insecurity. He’s learning, slowly but surely, that couches are comfy, treats rain from the sky (aka your hands), and humans might just be the best thing ever. So if you’re patient, gentle, and willing to guide this sweet, wide-eyed explorer into the magical kingdom of house-trained living, Gilligan’s ready to trade his fins—er, paws—for your world. Gilligan is a 16-month-old, 86-pound Bernese Mountain Dog/Great Pyrenees mix who found himself in rescue after his human hit a rough patch and could no longer keep him. Life threw them a curveball, and unfortunately, this big sweet boy ended up needing a fresh start through no fault of his own. Gilligan may have the name of a castaway and the fluff of a walking cloud, but emotionally? He’s more Ariel, trying to figure out his land legs. Other dogs? He’s submissive, sweet, and loves a good play session—as long as everyone understands he's still learning how to dog with others. Think of him as the quiet kid at summer camp who eventually joins in on capture the flag... once he's sure no one's going to pants him. As for cats? Gilligan is shockingly respectful. He doesn’t chase, bark, or treat them like scuttling sea snacks. He just vibes. Honestly, Sebastian would approve. Kids? TBD. He hasn’t met any tiny humans yet, but given his sensitive soul and general confusion about, well, everything, we’re guessing a loud, sticky toddler charging full-speed ahead might send him diving under the nearest table like it’s a coral reef. He’d likely do better with calm, older kids who respect personal space and don’t mistake his tail for a pull toy. When it comes to new people, Gilly takes a beat. He’s not going to throw himself into your arms like a Disney princess who just got legs—he’s more of a “observe from afar, process your energy, and then accept you as his new best friend” kind of guy. Bring snacks. Speak gently. Don't be a fork-wielding seagull, and you’ll be fine. He’s still adjusting to this whole “domestic life” thing, but if you’re patient, kind, and okay with narrating the human world like a Disney sidekick (“This is a couch. We sit here. No, we don’t panic about the ice maker.”), then Gilligan’s ready to be part of your world. Gilligan’s energy level falls somewhere between a sloth in a hammock and a sea turtle on a staycation. He’s not here for cardio—he’s here for calm. Is he an adventure-seeker or a homebody? Oh, he’s 1000% a homebody. Gilligan would rather write a strongly worded letter than go on a spontaneous outing. Hiking? No thanks. Coffee shops? Too many people. Car rides? Only if you enjoy lifting 86 pounds of reluctant fluff into the vehicle while he gives you the “this is how I die” eyes. His idea of adventure is sprinting through the backyard like he’s outrunning a life decision. Leash walking? Bold of you to assume he walks on one. Gilligan takes one look at a leash and becomes a boneless, immovable object powered by anxiety and refusal. Treats? Bribes? Praise? He’s not buying what you’re selling. Temperament-wise, Gilligan is a sensitive soul wrapped in a giant, confused floof. Loud noises, sudden movements, or anything above a librarian’s whisper? Immediate retreat. He’s soft-hearted, gentle, and still trying to figure out how this whole “being a dog” thing works without spiraling into a full existential crisis. As for hobbies? He’s still workshopping that. Toys are suspicious. Fetch is nonsense. But playing with other dogs? Now that makes sense—especially if they’re calm, friendly, and fluent in awkward social cues. And let’s be very clear: this is not an apartment dog. Gilly is a big, yard-loving boy who needs a secure fence and the freedom to run awkward little laps when he’s feeling brave. Not because he thinks apartment life is beneath him—he’s not judgy, just deeply uninterested in anything involving a leash, leaving the house, or stepping even one paw outside his carefully curated comfort zone. Leash walks and city life? Gilly respectfully declines and would prefer to stay home and pretend the outside world doesn’t exist. Potty training? Nailed it. Gilligan is a gentleman when it comes to bathroom habits—no accidents, no drama, just quietly handling his business like the refined, oversized house guest he is. Now, about crates… let’s just say Gilly has never been kenneled and would very much like to keep it that way. Forcing him into one would probably result in a full-on emotional collapse, complete with trembling, betrayal eyes, and enough drama to earn him a Daytime Emmy. Gilligan is not for you if your home is decorated in high-end textiles, heirloom quilts, or you consider your throw pillows part of your personality. This sweet boy has a soft-spot (literally) for anything plush and cozy—and by “soft-spot,” we mean he will chew slow, thoughtful holes in it like he’s doing embroidery with his teeth. Gilligan’s barking style? Currently nonexistent. Either he’s saving his voice for something truly important—like the world’s quietest intruder—or he simply hasn’t figured out what barking is yet. He’s been so quiet, we’re starting to wonder if he’s taken a vow of silence or is just politely observing the chaos of the world in stunned silence. When left alone, Gilligan enjoys full access to the house like the distinguished gentleman he is. He just quietly accepts that you’ve left, probably assumes you’re never coming back, and proceeds to nap like the sensitive, emotionally resigned gentleman he is. Gilligan is not your instant-gratification kind of dog. He’s not going to leap into your arms, gaze lovingly into your eyes, or immediately bond with your entire friend group over a game of fetch. In fact, if a fly shows up unexpectedly? He’s probably going to exit the room like it was a SWAT raid. This boy is still very much learning how to “dog.” He’s sensitive, cautious, and needs someone who understands that not every pup comes preloaded with confidence and party tricks. If you’re the kind of person who understands Bernese Mountain Dogs—their quirks, their gentle souls, their tendency to panic over literally nothing—then you’re going to adore this boy beyond words. You’ll laugh at his dramatics, cherish his slow progress, and proudly cry the first time he voluntarily lays next to you without spooking himself. But if you’re looking for instant perfection, a dog that “adjusts quickly,” or one that won’t be a bit of a fluffy, anxious project… please, for the love of all things soft and snuggly, keep scrolling. Gilligan’s heart is big, but his progress is slow—and he deserves someone who won’t rush him. If you’ve made it this far and aren’t already sprinting to fill out an adoption app, we’re honestly concerned. Well… concerned in the “this definitely isn’t the dog for everyone” kind of way—but also in the “if you know, you know” kind of way. Like, if you read this whole bio and thought, “Ah yes, this anxious introvert who is probably scared of his own farts is my soulmate”—then congratulations, you’re our kind of people. Fill out that adoption app at https://www.pyrpawsandfluffytailsrescue.com/adoption-app so we can send it to his foster family, and just know you'll need to pick up Sir Fluffy Feels-A-Lot in Kiowa, OK. No private jets, parade floats, or magic carpets provided—just good old-fashioned commitment.

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