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But that’s a should have. I have no regrets except that gnawing feeling of, ‘Numchucks, where are you?’ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ‘They had to put ole pig eye down today,’ one of the Riverside gossiping quartet said with a note of sorrow. The band of aged desperado’s sat at the local corner store. ‘Brutus? The tiger stripe pit bull of Al’s?’ ‘Yep, the Mill works and Cabinet shop mascot.’ ‘Yep, ole Iron Tail himself. I swear when that dog wagged his tail and it hit your leg it was like a ‘weed eater attack’.’ The elderly gentlemen all took their caps off and placed it over their hearts and bowed their heads in a moment of silence. ‘Amen.’ The old men sat in quiet somber for a moment. ‘Ain’t had a ‘dogs of war’ day in awhile.’ The old man sniffled then wiped his nose with his handkerchief. Obviously sorrowed. ‘Your right, we haven’t.’ Another answered. ‘I salute the Dogs of World War Two.’ The man said and raised his coffee. The congregation that was growing of the elderly.

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