My agent in Hollywood tells me that they’re screaming for animal biopics down there. They’ll buy anything you toss into the office.
Lassie – Start with a 21-year-old collie with mange and an animatronic mouth. “When I was a puppy, I played with my littermates and pooped out behind the well in the farmyard.”
Rin Tin Tin – Start with a brigade of German Shepherds, standing in formation wearing Nazi dog uniforms. If the movie is to be light-hearted, give them all Hitler mustaches.
Orca – Start with Orca’s mother. She’s either killed by the giant octopus from that other movie or she’s having sex with Sharktopus.
Cheeta – Go David Lynch. The young Cheeta meets this crazy old chimp who enslaves his mistress monkey and does jungle drugs to the extreme. It’s all like a primate dream, but Cheeta can’t wake up.
Note: No bugs, no sheep, no animated animals, no snakes or worms, no subtitles, no blood or viscera, no “messages,” limit of three generations even for rabbits, no dinosaurs, no birds unless they can perch long enough to hold a reasonable conversation, no religious nuts mammal or otherwise, no alligators, crocodiles, hippos, or rhinoceroses, no shills like that chihuahua, no dark glasses on dogs. No dog poker. Pet cemeteries are fine.