Brando remembers my parents
When he was a puppy, Brando used to visit my parents house quite often. It was a nice break from the social pressures of a Manhattan dog park. Later, when we moved away, he would sniff any envelope or package that my mother sent, and run to the door or window to see if she was there. Today a truck arrived with furniture and art and books from my now deceased parents' house. And this is what happened:
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