With lots of dogs and kids, this is a movie W. C. Fields would have loved. Regrettably, instead of Fields we are stuck with Chris Parnell as the suburban husband who has clearly never seen his wife naked. And yet they had a child together. Apparently he took a Polaroid picture of her.
"I got chunks of Alpo like you in my stool."
Sonny is a mob boss's favorite dog because why spend time with hookers and strippers when you can have a giant dog slobber on you?
Sonny starts to think the whole thing is kind of weird, since he also prefers hookers and strippers, so he runs away and gets chased by a pair of falouzas who are about as menacing as a non-masturbating Pee-Wee Herman.
Parnell finds a valuable mobster ring in the dog's giant pile of chocolaty creamcakes, which brings us to the story about the guy who ate pasta and his girlfriend's contact lens fell in while he was eating, so she forced him to later investigate his turds by slicing them superthin. Now THAT'S love.
The family falls in love with Sonny, except for Parnell who is tired of slicing the dog's poop every day to discover other mob artifacts. Can you blame him? No. You can only blame him for being in this horrible movie.
Meanwhile he has a wife who thinks people procreate by squishing in your partner's cheeks, and a kid who can't act.
But no worries. The end of the movie has the original O.G. Dogfather as a special guest! Play us out, Snoop Lion!! (Wait, did I just say Lion...? I'm so confused. And is he on a banjo...? What the hell is happening?!)
The whole family gets into some light bondage with Sonny, and Sonny learns that it's better to be with the mob than with a bland suburban family.
The whole thing was... wait for it... dogawful.
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