By Thomas Kleaton
The old man stopped raking leaves to watch the beagle circling the little boy laying pennies on the rail. “Be careful around that track. Lost my own dog to a train nine years ago.”
“Is it in Heaven, mister?”
“Nope. Keep him in my overcoat.”
The boy shivered. “Is your dog a ghost?”
The old man scooped up a penny and flipped it in the air.
“Call it and I’ll let you see. Heads or tails.”
The old man’s hand moved to his lapel then, exposing a small dog’s severed pelvis, complete with two skeletal legs and a tail.
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