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Call me desensitized, but you can do whatever you like to people in the movies.
Stab them, filet them, riddle them with throwing stars, run them through guillotines and wood-chippers, scoop their eyes out with rusty spoons, feed them to sharks, I don't care.
But dogs? Just let the movie dogs be.
Yet even those without a pro-mutt bias may find plenty to appreciate about Marley & Me, which is much more than the all-ages dog-com its marketing suggests. Believably-acted and snappily-directed, the film -- based on the bestselling memoir by John Grogan -- is also one of the most relatable portraits of a family in recent movie memory.
Owen Wilson and Jennifer Aniston star as John and Jenny Grogan, newlywed transplants to Florida who are both eager to kick off their careers in journalism.
In part to head off the arrival of kids, John convinces his wife to adopt a pup.
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So far, so good, except they end up with a hell-raising yellow lab -- or as John calls him "the worst dog in the world."
Named Marley after reggae legend Bob, he eats indiscriminately, barks at thunderstorms, humps legs and jerks loose arm sockets while on the leash.
Eventually these travails of training seep into John's professional life when he pens a series of columns about his home life, many of them centred on the uncontrollable canine.
If the film sometimes slips into silliness, it rarely hits a less-than-truthful note, particularly during scenes that could otherwise be maudlin and manipulative.
Even the obvious dog-based slapstick is kept to a minimum thanks to screenwriters Scott Frank and Don Roos, who allow Marley to act as the audience's window into the Grogan household as they struggle with parenthood, career choices and the occasional marital spat.
(For journalists, the heartiest laughs will undoubtedly come from Grogan's newsroom scenes, as when his grouchy editor offers to double his salary if he agrees to write a column; more hilarious still, is the size of the house he buys when he transfers to the Philadelphia Inquirer.)
Throughout, the Grogans, Marley aside, are portrayed as only slightly more interesting than your next-door neighbours, albeit better looking.
This may rankle restless critics sure to gripe about the story's lack of dramatic traction, but David Frankel's low-key direction only makes the final scenes -- since the movie takes place over 13 years, you can probably figure out what happens -- that much more moving.
This is the season's most satisfying, heart-tugging surprise.
(This film is rated PG)