We’d already adopted pet names for each other. Kit was my “Poops” and I his “Doops,” both of which were derivations of “Poopiedoops,” a term whose origin has eluded etymologists to this day. Kit also answered to “Peepiedoops,” a nod to the delayed trickle of urine that would lightly moisten his tighty-whities after he was done peeing. This was something he was initially embarrassed about, but after seeing how giddy it made me to watch this strapping twenty-nine-year-old man run around with dew spots on his undies, he would excitedly point to his drizzly drawers and marvel with childlike
...more
