Lily
Member
I read a lot and I read a book last year that I thought was pretty good. Just thought I would share it.
Puppy Chow Is Better Than Prozac: The True Story of a Man and the Dog Who Saved His Life
By Bruce Goldstein
About the book:
The only thing better than getting a puppy as a little kid is getting a puppy when you turn 27 years old, you’re out of work, you’re diagnosed with Manic Depression, your first love says she needs more space, and you’re thinking about killing yourself.
Bruce Goldstein was unemployed and recently dumped. This twenty-something New Yorker trying to make his mark in advertising had fallen into such a deep depression that he needed to call his mother just to get out of bed in the morning. From blowing $18,000 on helicopter rides over Hawaiian volcanoes to talking to the knives in his sink, Bruce was well into a downward spiral of bipolar disorder. Even with therapy, lithium, Paxil, Wellbutrin, and Prozac, he could not shake his rapid mood swings, his fear of dying, or the voice of Satan, who first visited him one sunny day in Central Park.
At the end of his rope, Bruce takes a desperate ride in a hurricane to find the one thing that just might save him: a slobbery, squirmy, ball of black fur. Promptly named Ozzy (after heavy metal’s “Prince of Darkness”) this exuberantly life-affirming black Labrador puppy forces Bruce on a surprising, uproarious journey of complete canine dependence.
From teaching Bruce how to not take himself so seriously to inadvertently showing him ultimate way to meet ladies (who knew that picking up puppy poop was so charming?), Ozzy helps Bruce heal through the most unexpected source: the love of a good dog.
Puppy Chow Is Better Than Prozac: The True Story of a Man and the Dog Who Saved His Life
By Bruce Goldstein
About the book:
The only thing better than getting a puppy as a little kid is getting a puppy when you turn 27 years old, you’re out of work, you’re diagnosed with Manic Depression, your first love says she needs more space, and you’re thinking about killing yourself.
Bruce Goldstein was unemployed and recently dumped. This twenty-something New Yorker trying to make his mark in advertising had fallen into such a deep depression that he needed to call his mother just to get out of bed in the morning. From blowing $18,000 on helicopter rides over Hawaiian volcanoes to talking to the knives in his sink, Bruce was well into a downward spiral of bipolar disorder. Even with therapy, lithium, Paxil, Wellbutrin, and Prozac, he could not shake his rapid mood swings, his fear of dying, or the voice of Satan, who first visited him one sunny day in Central Park.
At the end of his rope, Bruce takes a desperate ride in a hurricane to find the one thing that just might save him: a slobbery, squirmy, ball of black fur. Promptly named Ozzy (after heavy metal’s “Prince of Darkness”) this exuberantly life-affirming black Labrador puppy forces Bruce on a surprising, uproarious journey of complete canine dependence.
From teaching Bruce how to not take himself so seriously to inadvertently showing him ultimate way to meet ladies (who knew that picking up puppy poop was so charming?), Ozzy helps Bruce heal through the most unexpected source: the love of a good dog.
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