When their guardian died, seven small dogs—including four-year-old Billy—were left inside an empty Fresno County home. Days stretched into weeks; no food, no grooming, no human voice. Billy’s curly coat fused into hard mats, each knot a reminder of abandonment. Gidget, the tiniest of the pack, became his makeshift mother, nudging him toward scraps and safety.
A property sale finally brought rescuers to the door. The Cat House on the Kings—known for cats, yet expert in crisis-canine care—opened its gates. In one whirlwind afternoon, volunteers shaved pounds of felted fur, bathed seven trembling bodies, and slipped vaccines beneath newly pink skin. Billy emerged half his former weight, eyes bright with cautious hope.
Today Billy lives with a foster family who calls him “the happiest shadow in the house.” At eleven pounds of Pomeranian-Bichon bounce, he chases tennis balls, sunbeams, and the occasional house-cat tail. Potty-trained and polite, he prefers calm canine siblings and grown-up laps to tiny hands—kids are just too unpredictable for this boy who’s seen too much.
He still carries one invisible souvenir: a heart that longs for permanence. Adoption would free his foster bed for the next scared soul and give Billy the lifelong bond he’s been rehearsing for in foster dreams.
If you’re ready for couch cuddles, yard zoomies, and a lifetime of grateful tail wags, Billy is ready to meet you.