Hello, Crestmoor neighbors! Oscar here—your friendly (well… selectively friendly) neighborhood Great Pyrenees. I thought I’d take a quick break from guarding the house, napping strategically in sunbeams, and monitoring the squirrel situation to share my story with you.

My family (Erin, Dan, Andrew and Ryan) and I moved into Crestmoor in 2019, and let me tell you, I quickly decided this neighborhood is top-tier. Quiet streets perfect for long daily walks? Check. Friendly people who smile at me even when I pretend not to notice them? Check. A steady stream of squirrels to keep me professionally engaged? Double check.

What I like most is how my humans—Dan especially—always run into familiar, friendly faces on our strolls. I supervise these interactions from the end of my leash, of course.

My name is Oscar, and I’m about nine years old—give or take. When you’re rescued, your exact age becomes more of a loose suggestion. I’m a Great Pyrenees, which means I am genetically engineered to:

I came from the Great Pyrenees Rescue in Peyton, Colorado, after being found abandoned and malnourished in Texas. My front left leg didn’t grow the way it should have, so I get around mostly on three legs. The fourth is mostly decorative—great for balance, not great for running. But don’t worry, I can still outrun a squirrel for at least three seconds if I need to.

From the moment my new family met me, I knew I’d found my forever humans.

My family just knew I was an “Oscar.” Strong, dignified, slightly grouchy in the mornings—it suits me perfectly.

I’m a sweet old guy who loves nothing more than lying near whichever family member is home. I am loyal to my core, vigilant in my protective duties, and always ready to accompany Dan on our two daily walks around the neighborhood. He enjoys them. I tolerate them. We make a great team.

Look, I’m not doing any backflips or shaking paws on command. But loyalty? That’s my superpower.

I also don’t care for toys, treats, or food in general. I know—strange for a dog. Call me a minimalist.

One day, our neighbor brought home a fluffy Great Pyrenees puppy named Pyrl. My humans were SO excited for us to become best friends. Me? Not so much.

I’ve mostly pretended she doesn’t exist. Except for the one time—okay, fine—when I showed her how I felt by peeing on her through the fence. I regret nothing. Poor Pyrl was just trying to be friendly, but boundaries are important.

I’m not looking to socialize with other dogs—after all, I already have a full-time job protecting my family. But the kids in the neighborhood? They’re my soft spot. At the park, they run up, bury their faces in my thick fluffy coat, giggle while petting my belly, and I soak up every moment like royalty receiving adoration.

Take me to a big open dog park where I can run (in my own special three-legged style), explore, and sniff everything. Just keep the water far, far away. I do not negotiate with lakes, sprinklers, or unexpected puddles.

We’re always excited to meet fellow Crestmoor residents and their pets so come say hello (from a respectful distance if you’re a dog; closer if you’re a kid wanting to pet me) at 450 Kearney Street. 

Thanks for reading my story. If you see a big white fluffball strolling by with a serious expression, that’s me—Oscar—proud protector of Crestmoor. Feel free to wave. I may even pretend to notice you.