"I was abnormal for a lot more than that, too," he says, seeing a certainly solidarity between the two of them, although of course he's not nearly as intimately familiar with Ned's oddnesses or lack of normalcy as he is with his own. He could give a long speech about all the ways he'd failed to be the normal person that his father had wanted, that his classmates had wanted, even that his work had wanted. "I was born abnormal. I don't actually know what normal is. I mean, I know it when I see it, but I know I'm not it."

He looks down at Digby, smiling slightly, marveling again at just how smart that dog is, how much he seems to understand human conversation, how Ned talks to him like he's a real person. It doesn't strike him as strange at all, really. If he had such an intelligent dog, he'd probably talk to him, to. To be fair, Ginsberg talks to everyone and everything, including inanimate objects.

"I can be a human friend. I mean, if you want. I mean, I'd like to be."