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Peanuts slowly slid between the old man's fingers as he watched.
Unaware, his long time patrons smiled and greeted him as they passed.
The music stopping abruptly,
he listened to the sound as the nuts hit the cobbles of the ancient plaza where he stood, his back against a fountain in the middle of the square.
There was nothing he could do but watch,
and wipe the tears from his aged face.
Pino had been slowly making his usual rounds,
holding his cup out to the people for change,
when out of no where a large dog came bounding across the space between its owner and poor defenseless little Pino.
He felt a tug of the umbilical cord that attached him to his child,
still, he would normally have not been concerned with the dog
but like himself Pino had some how become old.
When threatened he was taught to climb a light post,
but they had all been removed with the renovation of the plaza; 
Or, he might have run to his master, climbing quickly upon his shoulder
or even as a last resort he would have jumped on the dog's back and bit him with his sharp teeth.
He was one of many Capuchin monkeys that had assisted him during his career.
His wife, Paola, chose and named this one after the character in her favorite book, Pinocchio,
and, being unable to have children of their own, this tiny baby that fit in the curve of the big man's cupped hands soon became their lost little boy.
She cried on the day they had his teeth removed and begged Giuseppe to not do it.
He tried to explain to her that it would be over quickly and he could not risk his lively hood on a monkey that bites.
He now regretted that decision.
Within six years, his wife succumbed to a ravaging disease that ate through her body.
After that he referred to it as the day he died,
but now as he watched his poor child being savaged and dragged 
along the flagstones of the square he lost his last reason, his last need,
his very last desire to live himself, a lonely old man of eighty...something.
His birthdays forgotten after Paola left him, he stopped counting them;
Although, he still celebrated on Pino's special day, the last having turned him thirty eight, the longest of any of his Capuchins to live.
He loved them all but Pino was special.
He decided not to get another after his wife passed.  It would likely out live him anyway.
Slowly, he leaned against the edge of the fountain as the scream in his throat
gave way to a long and heart-wrenching moan filled with the agony of humanity, before his knees gave way and he fell to the stone pavement clutching his chest.
He heard the passersby gasp as they stopped and tried to help him. 
It's his heart they said, as from his shoulders, they removed the strap of the small Barrel Organ that he played for years in order to scratch out a meager living for his family.
It's single leg broke as he fell, with the organ landing on his feet.
The kindness of the people surrounding him gave warmth to his pain
as they turned him over, but he knew it was too late when he glanced 
at the motionless string wrapped around his wrist and followed it to its end 
across the plaza.  
They were right, it was his heart.  It was laying in a small shattered
mound on the edge of the square.
His head rolled back reflexively as he wearily closed his eyes 
then softly and sadly whispered his final words,
I'm sorry Pino.
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