Psychiatric Times Vol 28 No 12

We both have the brilliant everlasting dumb luck to be fueled with oxytocin, the urge to eat and to bond. St Francis called his body “brother ass.” I call mine “brother dog.”

"What do you mean, a psychiatrist?” I asked my mom that question with great concern-and she explained to me exactly what my father did when he left the house each morning before I was even awake.