Lilo & Stitch just landed in cinemas (again), and according to the crowd, it’s actually not a flop. It looks like it's a decent take on the classic cartoon - though calling something from 2002 a "classic" still feels weird. Anyway.

Big news on our end: this’ll be Alan’s first real movie outing. Not counting that time we caught 15 minutes of cartoons at the cinema museum - nice, but doesn’t count. This is the full popcorn-in-hands, wiggle-through-the-trailers kind of deal.

Now, in the original cartoon, they mistook an alien for an angry dog. In our house, we’ve got our own version of Stitch - just less outer space, more sharp teeth.

His name’s Funtik. Yep, silly name, I didn't choose it. But once name is given, you’re stuck with it - that’s the law. I picked him up in my hometown some years ago. He was a tiny mess of a black cocker spaniel, dumped on the street, limping and scared. My friend found him, and somehow I ended up bringing him to Amsterdam, hoping his damaged leg could be fixed. It couldn’t.

So I got a dog I always wanted - and as it turned out, he came with some serious baggage. “Being in therapy” is trendy now - and of course, the dog didn’t want to miss out on the hype. Four different behaviorists (including the ones from Utrecht University) told me to either put him down or feed him with Prozac. Tried the meds. Didn't work.

Fast forward eight years. He’s still with us, no pills, and I haven’t been bitten in… a long while (knocking on wood as I say that). What worked wasn’t Prozac - it was patience, stubborn love, and not giving up on the little guy.

Now? Funtik is part of the bedtime ritual. Every night, he licks Alan’s hands before sleep. It’s weird. It’s sweet. It’s theirs. And it happens like clockwork.

Like the movie says:

Even the nutty ones. Especially them.