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For years, my family noticed my father making small mistakes. We did what most families do: We explained it away. The stress of his schedule, we said — he was working constantly, under real pressure.
But when he came to meet my second daughter the week after she was born, I could no longer explain it away. As he entered the gate to our yard, he looked down at our small dog — an animal who had been a fixture in my home for years, a face he should have known well — and his expression went uncertain. Then he asked if I had gotten a new dog.
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