My father lies wired up in a hospital bed, a clouded oxygen mask muffling his voice. "Wish I'd had a dog," I think I hear him say.

"A dog?" I lean closer.

He raises his head off the pillow. "A Golden Retriever, or German Shepherd. I hear they make good pets." I put my hand on his shoulder. I don't know what to say.

He looks up, wide eyes pleading with me. "I never really knew it, you see."

"Knew what, Dad?"

"Unconditional love."