It's nearly impossible to recall any film named for a dog in which the people are even half as memorable as the pooch -- think of Lassie Come Home, Old Yeller, Benji, Air Bud. But in this folksy, lemonade-sweet adaptation of Willie Morris's boyhood memoir, Frankie Muniz (of TV's Malcolm in the Middle) nimbly outshines his Alpo-scarfing co-star. With a face reminiscent of an "Our Gang" scamp, Muniz nails a range of tissue-tearing scenes as Willie, a bookish runt who learns a lifetime of lessons from his Jack Russell terrier.

The education of first-time director Jay Russell (no relation) isn't as complete. Although he gamely achieves genuine family entertainment -- the film never gets too cute or condescending -- Russell can't resist sentimentalizing Skip's every pant and whimper with a swell of strings. In addition, Morris's episodic retelling of life in 1940s Mississippi turns from spirited to sluggish here, and Skip's Solomon-like wisdom grows harder to swallow. Instead, it's the heartfelt emotion of the boy and his parents -- the quietly affecting Kevin Bacon and Diane Lane -- that wags this dog tale.