All my plans and activities were cancelled yesterday.
A result of my body's betrayal.
Most of the day was spent sleeping.
A futile attempt to ignore the brain twisting pain raging in my netheryeyah.
I wasn't the only one who was at the whim of his body yesterday.
At three, Frankie is still learning about himself and his body.
Case in point: the spontaneous and frantic thrusting of his hips yesterday morning for no apparent reason.
The hip thrusting wasn't an issue.
But the look on his face was priceless!
Looking at me with a combination of utter panic and fascination flitting across his face in equal parts.
Me trying not to laugh.
Typical 21 year old male.
If you believe the 7 human years for one dog year.
Given yesterday's impromptu display of his manliness, I do.
Stephen brought Tikka home yesterday afternoon.
I couldn't go.
Emotionally or physically.
The healing I thought I'd experienced was a facade.
Seeing her in her permanent resting place, knowing she was finally home, caused a release of pain and tears of such ferocity.
I had assumed I was all cried out.
Apparently not.
Rather than fight it, I just let it happen.
Let the tears flow, the pain wash over me.
Frankie at my side, resting his snout on my leg.
Sniffing the urn.
Knowing, I think, she was there.
At least she's here.
With us.
Never did I think that I'd welcome the return to classes.
The routine more than anything.
Knowing that I could tell you exactly what I will be doing at any time of day.
Not like now.
Aimless.
Work a bit, read a bit, sleep a lot, eat some, walk Frankie.
Time to return to routine, to normalcy, to the comfort of my everyday world.
Not that I can't find comfort here when I need to.
Last night, in my spot, watching Big Bang Theory, I look over to the couch, and see Frankie and Jasper.
The lion and the lamb.
Don't ask whose who.
That entirely depends on the time of day.
Title Lyric: Coming Home by Diddy
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