Firsts...

... for Knots in the String.

‘Firsts change the course of our life. Firsts are something new, unique, out of the ordinary, that we have never experienced before.’

First kiss, first swim, first drive, first overseas trip, first baby, first house.

But the two most powerful firsts are life and death. The ultimate examples of Yin and Yang, the eternal balance. Most of us have experienced both life and death, and perhaps not just once, but a number of times. The experiences have the capacity to alter whatever way we think or how we act. Whilst the most recent death in our own family was not a first, the experiences thereafter have been in the context of The Terrier. The first day after his passing. The first lone walk. Our first birthdays without him. The first Christmas without him. The first summer without him. There are more, but he would see it as a total waste of time to dwell, because of his famous dictum, ‘Life is filled with limitless possibilities.’

In respect of life, we’ve had a birth and the infant is now living with us. The Young Terrier is piling up so many firsts. First long car journey, first night away from the litter, first night with new parents. First time to the beach, first taste of icecream. First time on (in) a queen-sized bed (don’t judge…), first walk in a sling. First vet’s visit. It’s a fine balance between giving him experiences and allowing much rest (ours as much as his!)

For us, it’s the first lone puppy for 20+ years. We’ve normally always had an older dog to introduce a pup to.

He’s an exhausting joy. Not frenetic, but we have broken sleep with two toilet breaks most nights. (He’s pretty good at going straight back to sleep, but sadly, I’m not). I’ve read that pups usually don’t sleep through until about 16 weeks because of the size of their bladders. This chap is 9 weeks but whilst it feels as if it’s forever, I think that like life, it’s going to pass swiftly.

In the spirit of Yin and Yang, I’m busy with the pup but the minute he’s asleep, I stretch onto a bed or the couch and read or doze, sometimes stitch half a heart. Gosh, I even write a marginally cogent newsletter.

I understand the thing they call baby-brain now, or in the language of the menopause – brain fog. I walk away from the stove and forget to turn a hot plate off, I can’t remember words like agitator, I try to vacuum the floor without plugging the machine in. I managed to cook a cake today but neither of us have interest in cooking dinner. This all began last Friday evening when we bought the Young Terrier home.

We tell ourselves that as with Yin Yang, this too will be balanced by the joys of a marginally older dog by Easter. That the sleepless nights will almost be done. I guess it depends how quickly the little fella’s bladder grows. I said to my husband as we walked with the puppy sling over my shoulder, I had good training for this with last year’s bowel resection. For a start, fitness had to be reclaimed incrementally and then sleep, at least while in hospital, was inevitably broken – a lot. I’m sure you know what I mean.

And then suddenly, two nights ago and like a light switching on, we went from bumbling through the day in a miasma of lost sleep, to a pup who slept nine hours straight. See? Balance. (Mind you, we’re not holding our breath)

(Examining the world and what it has to offer, with a Zen-like attitude)

Life is filled with contrast – light and dark, sun and moon, day and night, life and death and more. In the scheme of things everything will change to its opposite – younger, older, less sleep, more sleep. Disorganisation, organisation. There is a profound message there.

Music?

A complete contrast to what I thought I might choose. I had thought some Zen or Tao-style melody, but in the spirit of Yin and Yang:

PS: Can I just apologise to any writers whose accounts I follow for my lack of either/or reading and commenting just now. I haven’t even washed my hair for a week!