doggy dooty dupes depression
Bruce Goldstein’s “Puppy Chow is Better than Prozac” vividly describes a manic depressive’s mental prison.
Goldstein, a 27-year-old New Yorker with Crohn’s disease (“I was constantly conscious of my colon”) and a mean case of bipolar disorder, loses his girlfriend, his job, his identity and his mind.
“It had been six weeks since the knives in my sink tried to kill me.”
After therapy, lithium, Prozac and Paxil did nothing to quiet the ”charismatic cutlery” calling to him from the kitchen, Goldstein decides the only way to salvation is through salivation – the slobbery love of a bundle of fur.
Ozzy – a black Labrador named after heavy metal’s “Prince of Darkness” – forces Goldstein out of the house and into the world, if only for dooty duty.
“Before Ozzy came along, my spirit had been on empty. Now he was my everyday energy attendant. He filled up my soul with unleaded love and prosperity. My once temperamental tank now overflowed with pride and joy.”
Three-fourths of this book is not enjoyable – it’s scary. Goldstein is almost too good at taking you into the mind of a manic depressive and it’s not a place you want to be.
“The key to getting through the morning was to keep moving. If I didn’t get dressed immediately, I was in trouble. I’d sit down and start thinking. It didn’t matter what. Or where. As far as I was concerned every chair in my apartment was an electric chair.”
The book is heavy and dark and deeply depressing. But all that is necessary for you to see just how Ozzy turns Goldstein’s life around. And humor is a key element in surviving this mental memoir.
“Raising a puppy was like being drafted into the army. Except in the army they let you sleep.”
Goldstein, a 27-year-old New Yorker with Crohn’s disease (“I was constantly conscious of my colon”) and a mean case of bipolar disorder, loses his girlfriend, his job, his identity and his mind.
“It had been six weeks since the knives in my sink tried to kill me.”
After therapy, lithium, Prozac and Paxil did nothing to quiet the ”charismatic cutlery” calling to him from the kitchen, Goldstein decides the only way to salvation is through salivation – the slobbery love of a bundle of fur.
Ozzy – a black Labrador named after heavy metal’s “Prince of Darkness” – forces Goldstein out of the house and into the world, if only for dooty duty.
“Before Ozzy came along, my spirit had been on empty. Now he was my everyday energy attendant. He filled up my soul with unleaded love and prosperity. My once temperamental tank now overflowed with pride and joy.”
Three-fourths of this book is not enjoyable – it’s scary. Goldstein is almost too good at taking you into the mind of a manic depressive and it’s not a place you want to be.
“The key to getting through the morning was to keep moving. If I didn’t get dressed immediately, I was in trouble. I’d sit down and start thinking. It didn’t matter what. Or where. As far as I was concerned every chair in my apartment was an electric chair.”
The book is heavy and dark and deeply depressing. But all that is necessary for you to see just how Ozzy turns Goldstein’s life around. And humor is a key element in surviving this mental memoir.
“Raising a puppy was like being drafted into the army. Except in the army they let you sleep.”
Labels: book review, dogs, manic depression
This entry was posted by kate, on Tuesday, July 29, 2008. You can
leave your response
. 