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Meet Billy The Wonder Orange Dog

Humor me for a moment while this site turns into Your Grandma Is An Absolute Magician And Tells You About Her Day.

So Mrs. TNIAAM and I have been dying to get a dog for years. We've just always lived in places that didn't allow them. Finally, we moved into a place that allowed pets and we started looking.

We knew we wanted to get a dog from a rescue or shelter, just felt like the right thing to do. We spent Thanksgiving on Whidbey Island, which is an island (duh) in the Puget Sound. Apparently it rivals Long Island for some kind of island-mass-length record or something. I don't know. What I do know is that it just so happened there was a dog rescue group on Whidbey that we'd been keeping an eye on.

So, after the holiday, we made our way over to the place and we met a little fellow named Billy. Twenty minutes later, he was in the backseat of our car on the way back to Seattle.


Billy's a 2 and a half year old black lab/setter mix. He was rescued from Puerto Rico, where he was living on the streets, so he brings some much needed Latin flavor into the household. He's also the perfect age to be brainwashed into being a Cuse dog. As you can see, the plan is already in motion.

He is, as you might imagine, the sweetest dog in the world. I know you think your dog is, and I truly hate to be the one to have to tell you this, but your dog is not. I'm so sorry.

I am constantly finding unused poop bags in and around my person. Found one in my wallet today and I honestly don't know how it got there. This is what happens, I guess.

As much as I used to judge dog owners before I had one, I find that I now judge them ten times harder. "What, you let your dog lead you on walks? WHAT KIND OF A SICK, DEPRAVED MONSTER ARE YOU???"

I'm a sane, rational human being. That said, even though Billy and I have been buds for only five days, I already know that if anyone so much as looks at him the wrong way, I will straight up murder them in cold blood. I will murder them in lukewarm or hot blood as well. The temperature of the blood in which I would murder them is irrelevant, to be honest. The murdering is what counts.

And so, I'm officially growing an orange, so to speak. Putting my money where my mouth is. Cause I'm certainly not putting Billy's paws where my mouth is. I've seen where they've been.

Finally, before you ask, obviously Billy is named after famed Syracuse basketball star Billy Owens. That's a given. And if you tell my wife I said that, I will disavow knowledge of ever having this conversation.