I wept.
Flat out, ugly cry, gasping out loud for air, sobbed.
I thought I knew what I was getting into. I thought I was ready for a dog movie. Maybe it was the combination of the kids growing up and the dog growing old and my own kids growing up and my own dog getting old. Maybe it was the very familiar voice of the dog, one with words similar to those we imagine our own pup speaking. No matter, the cinema experience this afternoon was something akin to ripping out my heart and stomping on it, four times.
Then we came home and told our old man Dillon what a good dog he is. Yes, he has fulfilled his purpose.
No more dog movies for a while, okay?
Thanks.
k.
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