[OwnedByJezebel]

Add me to the list of members here that have first hand experience with Betty Williams. At that time (1997), I had a one year old Maltese and decided to get another older pup as a companion for her. I saw an advertisement about an 11 month old male Yorkie, called, and went to see him.

At that time, she had a house in a mostly rural area of Rosenberg (or maybe it is technically Richmond, I'm not sure), south of 59. The house had sort of a "basement" that was about half above ground, not as deep as a regular basement. (Basements are pretty rare around here due to the high water table). There was a little white picket fence outside, forming a pen, and the Yorkies had a dog door where they could go in and out from the basement. I went down into the basement and there was this little guy alone in a wire cage, separated from the other dogs.

She told me stories about the dog that didn't seem to go together.
(1) He had belonged to her mother, but she was sick and couldn't care for him any longer, and she (Betty) was helping to find him another home. He had been very loved and just needed a home were he could continue to be spoiled.
(2) Her son (a little kid) had been working with the dog to get him socialized with people. That doesn't sound like it would be necessary for a dog that had been spoiled.
(3) He needed a new home because he had to go through the force 5 tornado that had recently hit Jerrell, TX. Well, what is it? Is your Mom sick or did her house blow away?

The little guy was so smelly, and had obviously not been taken care of. He was just pitiful, and I felt so sorry for him. I agreed to take him ($300) and would pay extra for a neuter if she would get that done before I picked him up. She also promised to clean him up.

A few days later, when I picked him up, he was pretty much in the same condition as when I had seen him earlier, except for some stitches from the neuter. He was still filthy, and I couldn't believe she had actually taken him to a vet's office so dirty. The grime was so thick in his hair that it took me several baths (more than 5) to eventually get it all out. He had also never had any shots. I could not believe that someone would keep dogs that could get outside in a rural area and not give them rabies vaccinations.

When I first got him home, he immediately found the food bowl and got as much kibble as he could in his mouth. He went around the house and tried to "hide" pieces here and there. I believe this indicated that he wasn't always segregated from the pack of wild Yorkies there, and had to compete for food. Within a few days, he figured out that there was always food in the bowl and he stopped that behavior.

You couldn't pick up a stick from the yard or a yardstick without him hitting the ground, shaking, cowering in fear. He would also do the same if I called out to my husband from across the house. He was deathly afraid when someone raised their voice. No doubt in my mind that he was abused.

When I had him in the car to bring him home, I spoke to him softly and petted him the whole way home. It might have been the first time that anyone had ever been kind to him, because he was incredibly attached to me. I left him in the back yard to go and get our other pup and introduce them. Our back door had a glass insert, and as soon as I shut the door, he stood up against the window watching me. I brought my other pup out, about two minutes later, and he was still there at the door, looking through the window, waiting for me to come back. He had not moved. He was also the same way when I would leave our living area. We had a pet get that separated that room from the rest of the house, and when I would go on the other side of the gate he would go sit there, just waiting, head cocked to one side and one ear up, until I came back. It didn't matter how long I was gone or that my husband and other dog were still with him in the same room.

We had to work with him really hard on socialization. He improved a lot but there were some situations that we just had to avoid with him.

Whenever he wanted something, he was so focused that it was incredible. If a ball rolled under the furniture where he couldn't reach it, he would not stop trying to get to it. Thirty minutes later, he would still be trying. The Senior Earthdog title requires that the dog work in the quarry for 90 seconds to qualify for the title ... 90 seconds would have been nothing for this little guy, I don't think you could have gotten him out of the tunnels.

He would have made a great little earthdog (I know, Yorkies can't compete) if he hadn't died before the age of three of cardiomyopathy, which I have heard is genetic. We did all we could for him, we were crazy about this little guy. I know his first year must have been pretty bad, but he had a really good life, with lots of love, for his final two years. I will never regret giving him a good life, however short, but no way will I ever deal with that breeder again.