Hello and welcome to the political orphanage.

And welcome to Charity Week, a week dedicated and entirely to interesting groups to make the world better.

I'm your host, Andrew Heaton.

And my dog, Wallace, would love it if our house burned down.

That would be a major coup for Wallace.

If he ever figures out how to turn the oven on, we're screwed.

Because Wallace loves being outside all the time.

But he doesn't want to be outside. He wants us to be outside.

Together, Wallace views himself as the furry half of the Heaton and Wallace compound organism

and Frisbee Consortium. It doesn't count as being outside unless, for some reason, I am also within

20 feet of him sniffing and peeing on stuff. We spent a month in my 13-foot camper, parked in my

friend Austin Bragg's yard last year, and Wallace loved it, because the camper is, according to

canine logic, legally outside.

We don't ever have to go inside, ever?

Wah-hoo!

That's my Wallace impression.

He would love nothing more than for our house to burn down

and the two of us to live in the bushes forever.

Now, don't get me wrong. I enjoy camping.

I like puttering around forests and breathing fresh air. And truth be told,

truth be told, I also enjoy paying outside on various trees. It's liberating. But call me a soft-handed

urban fop.

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