Last weekend, I took my family to see the Dog Man movie, an event that had been a year in the making. You see, my children have been addicted to the Dog Man books for twelve solid months. They read them, re-read them, quote them, and act out scenes in the living room. I, meanwhile, have spent those same twelve months grumbling about how Dav Pilkey—if that is his real name—has corrupted the minds of American youth with crude jokes, potty humor, and a steadfast refusal to use traditional spelling.
If I ever meet Mr. Pilkey, I will have some words for him, and none of them will be “thank you.” I will tell him that I, a once-respectable parent, now know more about anthropomorphic toilet villains than I ever wanted. I will tell him that I can no longer have a serious conversation with my children without them interjecting a phrase like “flippy the fish” or “supa buddies.” And I will ask him, with all due respect, what kind of name is Dav? Did the “e” go missing? Did he reject it on purpose? Is he trying to start a trend? Because I swear, if my kids come home one day and tell me their friend Steve is now going by “Stev,” I’m going to start a petition for immediate parental intervention.
For those uninitiated in the lore of Dog Man, allow me to educate you. The titular character is a half-dog, half-man police officer. This happened because a police officer and his canine partner were injured in an explosion, and some genius in the medical field decided to sew the dog’s head onto the man’s body. Thus, Dog Man was born—a hero to children and a menace to parents who were hoping their offspring would be drawn to books with slightly less bodily function-related content.
Despite my misgivings, I, being the benevolent patriarch that I am, took the family to see the film adaptation. And much to my surprise (and begrudging admission), it was– good. The animation was well done, the plot was engaging, and— most shockingly of all— the toilet humor was kept to a minimum. This, for a Dog Man property, is a monumental achievement. In the books, there are no fewer than five bathroom jokes per page, so the fact that the movie featured only a handful meant that it was practically a Jane Austen adaptation by comparison.
Even more surprising, the movie had actual themes. Themes about friendship, about overcoming differences, and about how what unites us is greater than what divides us. At one point, I caught myself genuinely invested in the fate of a talking cat with a father wound. I don’t know who I am anymore.
I also have to give a standing ovation to the filmmakers for including a reporter in the story. Finally, some proper representation for the truly overworked and under appreciated: journalists. We don’t ask for much, just a little acknowledgment that it takes true courage to chase down stories while running solely on caffeine and existential dread. We’ll forget her flirtations with the police chief, though it isn’t all that unheard of.
After the credits rolled and the popcorn dust settled, I turned to my children, looked them in their hopeful, joy-filled eyes, and, like the responsible and decent parent I am, I admitted that I was wrong. The movie was enjoyable. Dav Pilkey—whose name I still take issue with—had not entirely ruined storytelling. My kids were right.
Will I now embrace the Dog Man fandom? Will I eagerly await the sequel? Will I stop grimacing when my children quote the books at the dinner table? No, no, and absolutely not. But I will take solace in the fact that, at least for one afternoon, I was entertained and not bombarded with potty jokes. And for that, I suppose, I should say: Well played, Dav. Well played.
B.T. Clark
B.T. Clark is an award-winning journalist and the Publisher of The Georgia Sun. He has 25 years of experience in journalism and served as Managing Editor of Neighbor Newspapers in metro Atlanta for 15 years and Digital Director at Times-Journal Inc. for 8 years. His work has appeared in several newspapers throughout the state including Neighbor Newspapers, The Cherokee Tribune and The Marietta Daily Journal. He is a Georgia native and a fifth-generation Georgian.
