I was pissed off that this was going to be my movie, to the tune of an eye roll and an “Aw, geez! A kids' movie?!” Eighty minutes later I was wiping away a tear mumbling something about “Ohana means family (sniff)...”
Now I am not going to sit here and tell you that I have fallen in love with the evil poodle. Nor would I be surprised to discover it had connections to alien life forms. But I will admit that after eight days of feeding her and throwing her ball around the yard, she is almost, kind of, a little, cute when she bounds back with the slimy tennis ball and her ears bouncing; she likes to sit in my lap; and she's stopped barking so damn much. Mrs. Johnson is home. My flight has landed.