Filed under: America, China, Dad, Death, Emotion, Empathy, England, Family, Home, Hong Kong, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, New Zealand, Otis, Parents, Rosie, Shanghai, Singapore
So tomorrow marks the 2nd month since Rosie passed … and I am still struggling with it.
I appreciate how pathetic that may sound, but it’s how I feel.
In many ways, the loss of Rosie feels very, very similar to the loss of my parents.
I don’t say that lightly.
I also don’t say that because my parents weren’t wonderful.
Frankly, they were amazing and gave me a childhood where I can honestly say I never wanted for love, support or encouragement. And while I didn’t really appreciate how special that was until I was much older and realised not everyone got to experience that, I definitely understand how blessed I was for what they gave me and left me.
However, while Mum and Dad were my physical and emotional constant throughout my first 20+ years of my life … as I went through my key adult ’life stage’ years – such as marriage, moving countries [a lot] and starting a family – they weren’t. Part of this is because by then I was living far, far away from them – so only connected to them by phone, albeit on a daily basis, as well as my annual visit home – and part of this is because sadly, both of them died over this period of time. Which means from 2007, Rosie – along with Jill – were my physical and emotional constants.
Wherever I was … whatever I was going through … they were the ones who I went back to each and every day.
Who were there for me, each and every day.
In essence, they were on the other side of the bridge that took me between childhood to adulthood, which I hope helps explain Rosie’s significance and importance in my life.
But there is another reason I feel such loss and that is because I can’t help but feel I had something to do with it.
At the end of the day – while it was out of love to ensure she didn’t suffer given her kidneys had stopped working – I/we made the decision when her life would end. And for all the compassion, care, gentleness and tears we shed, it is something I still feel guilty about.
Of course it is full of irrationality …
Somehow, I am of the belief that we could have nursed her back to health. That … had we not taken her to the vet that Saturday morning for a routine injection, she’d still be with us.
And maybe she would … except the likelihood is she would have ended up suffering far more as we wouldn’t have had the time to get her the specialist care that ensured she didn’t suffer more than she had to.
But that Saturday is burned into my mind.
That morning she was almost back to her old self.
Jumping on our bed in the morning. Wanting food. Doing her loud ‘surprise happy scream’ every time she saw us. We even said, “she’s back to her old self”.
The injection at the vets was just to help with her arthritis – nothing more – and yet a quick blood test set off a chain of events that led to us saying goodbye to her 48 hours later.
And while I know the reality of the situation is her kidneys had started to properly fail … in fact, her readings had more than doubled within the month – from an already terrible score of 400, which represents ‘stage 4’ out of 4 possible levels for a cat’s kidney health to just under 1000 – I still find the image of leaving our house looking well and returning ready for goodbye hard to reconcile. Hard to let go of my complicity in creating this situation – even though every vet we spoke to had already warned us of the severity of her situation and, if truth be known, we were aware that her previous illness a month earlier signified a major shift in her wellbeing. As I wrote in the post announcing her death, that shift felt similar to the final stages I saw my Dad go through before he passed.
Doesn’t make it any easier.
Doesn’t make being home any less challenging.
Because everything screams she is not there.
It’s all so heartbreaking. I keep wanting to ring the vet who helped her sleep to give her an injection to make her come back alive. To erase the decision we made, even though it was absolutely the right decision … a decision that I think even Rosie wanted. Especially as kidney failure gives a cat about 30 days before it all ends in tragedy and we were close to that timeline being hit and yet I want to ignore all that as I just want her back.
Hell, I keep finding myself saying, “come on Rozzie” when we go to bed … expecting to hear her feet make a little sound as she jumps off wherever she was to follow us down the stairs. But the hardest thing … the thing that absolutely reinforces she’s not longer with us is that I no longer have to check the front door when I leave in the morning or get in at night.
Each day, as I was heading out to work, Rosie would come upstairs with me. While this was because she hoped for extra Friskies – despite I had just given them to her downstairs – I would end up giving her a couple more because I couldn’t resist her face and it was the best way to ensure she didn’t sneakily follow me out of the front door where she felt a compulsion to explore, even though she knew she wasn’t allowed to. And at night, when she heard my car come down the drive, she’d be waiting at the glass next to the front door where I would see her silently meow to me through the glass as a way of saying hello, before trying to get through my legs when I walked in.
Occasionally she’d succeed and then proceed to sit under mine – or Jill’s – car until finally getting bored [or tempted with treats of falling in reach of one of our arms] but it was a daily ritual and now I can keep the door wide open and it literally fucks with my head.
I miss it. I miss all the things she did.
Even the stuff that annoyed me … like coming into the lounge at night – when Jill and Otis were asleep – and literally screaming at me, telling me it was time to come downstairs to bed with her.
She did a lot of screaming, but over the years she ‘educated us’ to what each one meant.
One was that she wanted to sleep under our sheets in bed and needed us to lift them up for her to go underneath. One was that she was hungry and wanted us to hand deliver treats rather than eat the food in her bowl. One was for us to open the lounge doors so she could go and sit out on her special bean bag cat bed on the deck so she could look out on the trees and feel the sun on her fur. In fact, the only time she didn’t scream was when we were actively looking for her, fearing she had got out when we came home and didn’t realise.
She did do that a couple of times, but never went far. Or for long.
She knew where home was.
She knew how well she was cared for.
She was definitely not a stupid cat.
And that’s why I can’t think about getting another. At least not yet.
I did look for cats who needed adopting very soon after Rosie had gone, but then I realised I wasn’t doing it to replace her, but to replicate her and that is both impossible and unfair to whoever we adopted.
So we need time. And while this may all sound dramatic for a cat, I point you to the post I wrote about Denise – the woman that I need to apologise to. Who gave me a very early warning as to what this would feel like. Because a pet is not just for life, a pet adds to your life and Rosie was – and will forever be – my first animal family member and I’d do anything, as I would for Mum and Dad, to have her back. Even for one day.
So regardless who you are or what you’re doing, don’t take the good shit for granted.
Because as annoying as it can be, it is better than it not being there.
And that is why – despite having experienced death throughout my life – Mum, Dad and Rosie’s passing has been the most significant.
What is interesting is that at my age – which I recently heard described as ‘the youngest of the old bunch’ – I am heading towards more of that. Including, my own one day … albeit hopefully a long time away. But it does make you re-evaluate what is important and who is important, which is leading to a lot of discussions and considerations about the future we want to have rather than the future we will get given.
But while there is a lot of sadness in this post, I want you to know I’m not in a bad way.
I was, but not now.
Part of that is because we have Rosie’s ashes with us and weirdly, it feels like she’s home.
Not exactly as we would like.
But exactly where she belongs.
And that, I’m increasingly learning, is the real definition of happiness, fulfillment and success.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
This is the last post I’ll be writing for 2 weeks as I’m off on a ridiculous trip for work.
Across Canada. Across America. And a quick visit to Australia. Quite bonkers.
But I am eternally grateful for it. Not just because of the air miles, but because it is being organised by a client who wants me – and 3 colleagues – to really understand who they are.
The details. The nuances. The values. The realities.
At a time where so many clients want simple, superficial and easy, they’re going out of their way to make it difficult for all of us … but in the most brilliant, rewarding and valuable way ever.
And for that we’re all eternally grateful.
Not because it’s rare, but because it means they give a fuck about what who they are, what they do and what they want us to create together.
They’re invested in making something great, rather than just expecting excellence without contributing anything to it beyond deadlines, mandatories and distain.
And you know what this ‘in it together’ approach achieves?
A team very, very motivated to do something extraordinary for them.
That’s contrary to what many companies think is the way to work with agencies or partners these days. Believing that if they treat people like disposable commodities, they’ll get them to work even harder for them. Which means they value you nothing other than the price they pay for something.
And while I appreciate what we do costs a lot of money and so being on top of things is important, I’ll tell you what ends up costing a whole lot more: treating partners like shit. Not because they’ll stop caring about what they do, but because they know you don’t even care about who you are.
Which is why we’re thrilled to be going on this trip … because nothing shows commitment like inconvenience.
See you on the 29th … as there’s a holiday in Auckland on the 28th, hahaha.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Context, Corporate Evil, Creativity, Culture, Embarrassing Moments, Management, Marketing, Marketing Fail, Mediocrity, Perspective, Point Of View
I don’t struggle for things that fuck me off, but what is currently top of the charts on my personal ‘shit parade’ is people who talk in definitive and absolute terms.
Actually I need to be more specific. I mean the people who talk in definitive and absolute terms that blatantly attempt to elevate their position by putting others down via some pseudo-intellectual or utterly subjective horseshit.
It’s happening more and more, especially on – surprise, surprise – Linkedin.
And while I’m all about having a point-of-view, it only has value if you have an appreciation of what others think or do. So you have some real context to evaluate your viewpoint. And it would be even better if you also had some actual experience in the area – or on the issue – you’re being condescending about. Not ‘in theory’. Not ‘by association’. Not some ‘short-term, low-level’ employment experience from 20 years ago. Actual experience. So – you know – you can show you have an actual idea what the fuck you’re talking about, including what it takes to actually make these things happen and who is complicit when it doesn’t on an on-going basis.
Because nothing screams egotistical, blinkered, privileged, arrogant asshole – desperate-for-attention-or-notoriety – than saying “This is shit as is anyone who disagrees with me”.
Topped off by then ignoring, deleting or blocking anyone who dares challenge their view, even if they are well placed to have a perspective and are expressing it with respect and politeness.
It’s like they’re the bastard love child of Andrew Tate and a shock-jock talkback radio host. Immediately dismissing anything that doesn’t suit their narrative but throwing praise on anyone or anything that acknowledges it. Even better if it specifically acknowledges them. By name.
The thing is, these people have smarts. They’re not stupid. But their ego refuses to accept or acknowledge any other possible way of thinking or working. So when someone or something achieves a level of success that sustainably outstrips their approach, they either attack or try to claim some sort of ownership of the success. A bit like all those people who suddenly updated their Linkedin profiles to say they were NFT/Metaverse/AI experts.
It’s pretty incredible to be honest.
Which is why I find it kinda-ironic some of the worst offenders seem to be those who reside – or are associated with – academia. Not all of course, just the ones who seem to think that because they’re highly qualified in one area, they are qualified to speak about all areas.
Which is why, whenever I see these men [and it’s typically men] peacocking on social media, it reminds me of Lucille Ball’s brilliant quote. A quote I made into a sticker that I’ve given to members of my planning teams for decades.
A sticker permanently stuck on the front of my laptop …
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Audacious, Brand, Brands, Collaboration, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Entertainment
Over the years I’ve written a bunch about weird colabs.
There was Prada and LG.
And of course, Ferrari and SanDisk.
Then the classic, ‘should ink stink’ of Montblanc and Perfume.
[Though since that post in ’07, Montblanc have evolved into more of a proper ‘lifestyle’ brand]
Anyway, there’s been loads, but it has felt that recently things have slowed down – or should I say, have become a bit more ‘logical’ – which is why I was kinda-ecstatic when I saw this.
Yes … it’s Coke Zero x Oreo.
In drink form [where it takes of Oreo] and in biscuit form [where it tastes of Coke Zero]
Now while I LOVE Coke Zero and used to love Oreo [can’t/don’t eat them anymore] … there is absolutely no reason why these 2 brands should come together.
Zero. Nada. Zilch.
And I can say, having tasted them [well, at least the drink version] I completely stand by that view … however that doesn’t mean I was not utterly thrilled when I saw them do it.
Now this is not simply because it’s all kinds of incredible that 2 of the most sugar-based brands in the history of the World have been able to create a product [at least in drink form] that has ZERO SUGAR in it … but because it’s the sort of madness that is being seen less and less in the world. And yet, it has captured the imagination – whether in terms of curiousity, aspiration or disgust.
Finally, something that provokes a real reaction in us.
Not ‘mildly pleasing’ or ‘generally nice’ but LOVE or HATE.
Fuck me, what a relief.
But it’s also a smart business move because as I wrote when Walkers launched their ‘mince pie’ flavoured crisps … it forces you to notice.
And while some may say, “being noticed means nothing if you’re noticing it because you hate it”, I’d say it still achieves a better return on investment than the approach of making everything so bland you don’t care, even when you see it.
Also known as current marketing practice philosophy.
So while I appreciate a limited edition is always going to provoke a response that is faster/greater than an established brand or product, it’s worth remembering – at this time where so many Effie submissions are being judged all over the world – that nothing drives commercial effectiveness like creative ridiculousness.
Or, to quote The KLF, if you want to win, ‘don’t give them what they want, give them something they’ll never forget’.
It’s not hard … we just make it that way because of ego, procurement, mediocrity or logic.
Filed under: Childhood, Daddyhood, Family, Jill, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents
So I should start by pointing out that the title of this post is misleading.
Because while having a child does interrupt your ability to watch a movie at the cinema … both because they often disrupt it with their questions or actions throughout the movie and because you end up watching films you literally would never choose to go and see – let alone pay for – in a million, billion, trillion years … that’s not what this is about.
No … what this is about is the joy of seeing your kid watch a movie they love in the cinema.
Recently I went to see Despicable Me 4 with Otis.
As kids movies go, it was good. Not SpongeBob good … but good all the same.
[That said, since I wrote this post we went to see Transformers One, and that was brilliant. In fact I’d go as far as to say it was the best ‘prequel’ movie I’d ever seen. Which may say more about my movie tastes than my appreciation of the craft of storytelling]
But as fun as it was, it was not as wonderful as watching Otis be utterly engaged with everything happening in front of him.
It helped he was sitting in seats that moved with the action on the screen so it was an even more immersive experience … but the joy he radiated was more infectious than crack.
So infectious, that I realised I was spending more time watching him watching the movie, than I was watching the movie.
And I loved it.
Every single second.
Not just because I love him, but because it was beautiful to witness someone so captivated with the magic of a movie.
Leaning forward.
Gripping the seat.
Occasionally turning to look at me – or his Mum – to show us his laughter.
Or repeat a line he felt was especially funny that he wanted to ensure we had heard.
Or to have our reassurance when there was a slightly scary moment.
It was a joy and a privilege.
I say a privilege because I know it won’t last. There will be a time where he won’t want to go to the cinema with his parents … and while that will symbolise his growing independence – which is a good thing – it will also remind us of our growing irrelevance.
Well, not irrelevance, but maybe significance.
And while I totally appreciate not everyone wants a child – or can’t – I can tell you that as challenging and painful as witnessing their ‘evolution’ may selfishly be, the joy of seeing them grow while still embracing the wonder of life, is worth it.
Every mindnumbingsecondofwatchingeverymindnumbingfilm of it.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Auckland, Communication Strategy, Context, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, New Zealand, Perspective
A few weeks ago, while going for my daily walk, I saw this:
I know there’s nothing new in this concept.
Let’s face it …
+ Solving problems are more powerful than communicating problems.
+ Talking to someone is always more effective than talking to everyone.
+ Changing contexts and perspectives helps change contexts and perspectives.
+ Being self-awareness opens up possibilities for who you can become.
… is well established and been practiced for years – such as this iconic piece from London’s V&A years back – but I still like it. A lot.
I know it won’t change the world, but it’s an idea that may change somebody’s … because to paraphrase Ferdinand Porsche, ‘its better to be everything to someone than try to be anything to anyone’
So to the Auckland Museum and the people behind it, well done.