Pet Bereavement

The Kyle and Jackie O Facebook page asked this morning whether people think it is okay to take time off work when their pet dies. The majority of responses were 'yes', but some of these supportive responses did come with conditions - such as appropriate time periods for different animals.

When my first cat, Vodie, was run over, I was told about it in a phone call from my landlord half way through the work day. I was immediately a sobbing mess, and my boss sent me home. This was a big loss for me - I lived alone at the time, and my Mum drove over an hour to be with me as soon as I phoned her. I can't remember now whether I took annual leave for that time, but I did return to work the next day - a little fragile, but ready to move on with the working week.

I don't really advocate the introduction of pet bereavement leave in employment contracts or anything like that (although I know some work places do already have this policy in place), it really needs to be on a case-by-case basis depending on the pet and the role, I think. 

Would you take (or have you taken) time off work after your pet's death, and if so - how much time?

History? Clear All.

Last week I'm sure most of you saw the compilation of Tweets from people who were unaware the sinking of the Titanic was a real event. Along with those I shared it with on Facebook, I was appalled by the writers' ignorance.

But today I began questioning why I was so stunned. I distinctly remember reading a watered-down (no pun intended) account of the disaster at primary school, prior to the original release of James Cameron's film, but I'm unsure whether the majority of my peers did the same. If not for the film, would we early-20-somethings have known about the 1912 event itself? I guess that is impossible to say for certain.

Regardless, this isn't a post written to defend these poor Tweeters. I could speculate for hours about modern education, and the amount of time one could spend focusing on information about events happening around the world right at this very moment, let alone last century.

But I'm thinking more selfishly, and wondering - if these people can go through life being unaware of this iconic tragedy, what am I missing out on?

I feel like almost every day a historical event is referred to in a news report or article, and I learn a whole lot of information about something I'd never heard of before. In the past week alone I have learned, for the first time, about Budd Dwyer's suicide, the Lockerbie bombing, and Unit 731 - the latter of which caused the most disappointment in myself. I knew bad things happened during World War II, but I didn't know details of this Unit, I didn't know who was involved, I didn't know any specifics of the atrocious acts which were carried out there. And to me that event seems far more significant than an engineering feat-come-maritime disaster.

So I'm curious - what are some historical events you think are significant, and that everyone (me) should be aware of?

Depth

Yesterday I was described in passing as a "dark horse", which is totally true and I like that.

I write about all sorts of stuff on here, because it's easy, and editable. It's in a public domain, and I write knowing absolutely anyone can read it. But in real life, when you meet me, it's going to take a long time to learn about all the little pieces of my life- the things that make me who and how I am. That includes so many things- past experiences, the most dramatic parts of my life, through to menial things, like my interests.

It's not that I have a problem with sharing any part of my life (obviously), and if someone asks, then I tell. But I'm quiet by nature, by choice I don't often speak unless spoken to, and I'm just not a person who will spill my guts about everything.

I have no problem with (and actually a lot of admiration for) people who are confident and willing to talk about themselves. But at the same time, I like that I surprise people. I like that people I've only just met will develop an opinion of who I am, and the longer they stick around and get to know me, the more they're going to find out. And likely, their perception of me is going to alter a bit.

Day 11 of 30

Your favourite toy/hobby/sport etc. as a child

It's always been drawing and painting. My sister and I used to draw on old printer paper at home, and I remember drawing image after image of this cross-sectioned house, with swinging lightbulbs and stickmen families going about their routines.

I think artistic skill is absolutely learned, and just takes practice. I went through all the drawing stages that kids go through; felt tip outlines and coloured pencil filling; shading and forgetting about the white spaces. I was one of the two best drawers in my primary school class, but with hindsight I'm not really sure why. I used the same techniques as everybody else... I guess I just spent more time perfecting them.

The first time I really started to understand visual art was art class in my first year of intermediate. My teacher got us to paint a sheep skull, with a tonal scale down the side of the page to work from. I think I'd been sort of fluking it a little before then- drawing things in certain ways, but without really understanding why. Suddenly I got it- form, tone, contrast. My finished piece was still probably pretty ugly (haha), but it changed everything about how I drew and painted, and got me excited about that subject.

Unfortunately the school I was at was pretty terrible in every other way, so I ended up switching after a few weeks- maybe I'd be much better today if I'd had that teacher for two years. I really think that the teacher makes all the difference to every subject, including art. I didn't have anyone particularly inspiring until my last two years of high school, and coincidentally he was the husband of that intermediate teacher. Until then I read a lot of drawing books, and practiced at home (art classes were no help; there were too many restraints and instructions and completely boring subject matter).

I don't claim to be a great artist at all, but it frustrates me when people say they wish they could draw like me, because often when I do see an example of their own drawing, it’s pretty damn good! I think as adults, if we’re not professional artists we claim that we can barely draw stick figures, when really we would just need to have some interest and put some effort in to produce (visually) great work.

I have no conclusion to this post, sorry. Other than to say, no, I can't play the harmonica. Although I do still have that one. I just think I look totally indie, man.

Brainspew

I just read this post by Danielle and decided to blog my thoughts on and related to it, in a very unstructured, chain-of-thought, rambley kind of way.

Danielle writes about thinking a lot. Me too. All the freaking time. In my interview for my job, I remember being asked questions about my personality, and launching into a nervous mini-ramble about how I’m always thinking. I guess it’s human to think and over think, though my difference is that I don’t speak aloud 99% of my thoughts. If you know me you’ll understand that, and if you don’t then yeah, I probably am as weird as that makes me sound!

I really love this lyric she quoted by Death Cab for Cutie: “And it came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time.” I’m not familiar with the song to be honest but wow, brilliant. Engrave it on my headstone please.

I have thoughts like she describes a lot too, but about the stupidest things. Like after the Dexter season finale last year, I had the most horrible thought- what if I die and don’t get to see season five?! Totally the end of the world.

Seriously though, as a child I had so much fear of something happening to my parents. My Dad used to drive a truck over the Rimutaka Hill every day, both ways (best video I could find here, 23 seconds long) and I was absolutely terrified that he was going to be in an accident, and roll the truck off the road. I know some people think that if they say some horrible fear aloud then it will happen, but as a kid I thought that if I said something aloud then it wouldn’t happen, because that would be too much of a coincidence. When I worried so much that I cried, I would go and talk to my parents, but say I’d dreamed it. With retrospect I was embarrassed and I think that I believed having these bad thoughts consciously made me a bad person.

I deliberately force myself not to think about stuff like that anymore, it’s too upsetting. Sometimes a storyline in a TV show will make me think about what would happen and how I’d react if it happened to my equivalent loved one, but in all honesty that’s usually in order to critique an actor’s performance!

Last year one of my closest friends lost her little brother in a totally random, ridiculous accident. I’d only met him a handful of times, but I went to his tragic, beautiful funeral for her, and I think it was the first time in my life that I’d actually realised how short and fragile life is. I’d already used up 20 years of my life before I understood that it really could be over, any day. I’d known people to die before, even known people who were murdered, and I’ve heard “life’s short” all the time. But I’d never truly realised until he died, that sometimes there are no warnings and it’s just over.

Since then, have I changed the way I live my life everyday, stopping to smell the flowers and dancing in the rain? No. I’m human, I’m fickle, I bitch and argue about stupid things, am too embarrassed to say “I love you” 24/7 and my hair frizzes up like an afro in the rain. But it has changed me in subtle ways; I’ll write things I can’t say out loud to my loved ones in birthday cards and emails, so they’re at least communicated. I spend more time doing things I enjoy. Funnily enough it’s made me worry less than ever about random tragic things happening, because I’ve realised there’s absolutely nothing we can do to stop them. I’m fortunate to be here, I’m fortunate that everything’s going so well for me, and I’m aware that this won’t always be the case. Life is so unpredictable, we can’t possibly prepare ourselves for everything, so why worry? Let’s just enjoy.

Arthritis New Zealand Annual Appeal rant

Edit: According to Google Analytics I've had a few hits from people Googling "arthritis" "New Zealand" etc. If you wish to join our Wellington-based Facebook group you can do so here. All welcome.


You may or may not be aware of the fact that I have ankylosing spondylitis; an autoimmune disease with a ridiculously long-winded, tongue-twister of a name, and a depressing list of symptoms and outlooks. AS is a form of arthritis that mainly affects the spine. I was diagnosed a number of years ago now, and had my first symptoms of it around age 12.

At some stage I will definitely write a post on my personal experiences as a juvenile arthritic, but today I'm just writing my opinion on this TV advertisement for Arthritis New Zealand, and their annual appeal week which finishes tomorrow.

This year is the first time I'd seen it, though according to the YouTube upload it was also used last year. A trio of NZ "celebrities" fumble around in bright orange, over sized gloves, attempting to demonstrate the restrictions arthritis causes its sufferers.

Firstly, the elements of this ad that I commend are as follows:

• The use of locally recognisable celebrities
• Featuring Geraldine Brophy, who has arthritis herself
• Having a TV advertisement in the first place

However, that's pretty much where my praise ends.

I knew what arthritis was even as a small child, even though I wasn't aware that my own Mum had it (I'm talking primary school age). I recall the term being commonly used throughout my early years among my peers, "Don't crack your knuckles, you'll get arthritis!" We may not have known the finer details of the symptoms or causes of the disease, but we were all perfectly aware that arthritis was pain inside the joints of a person's body.

I personally don't think that the general population needs any eduction as to what arthritis is, on surface value, which is all this ad really covers. I don't imagine there's anyone in the country who doesn't know of somebody affected by it, and therefore knows the basics of what it is. However for the majority of people it will be an elderly relative with osteoarthritis, which is incredibly common, affecting almost all of the elderly population; a progressive breakdown of the joints. Elderly are already considered old and slow, and if I didn't have my own experiences with a different type of the disease, then I imagine I'd be quite oblivious to the degree of pain these elderly people are suffering from.

I don't like the advertisement's focus on the physical restrictions of arthritis, and the emphasis on the hands. This point is all very well outlined in Helen's blog post here:

"For one thing, these ads have absolutely no mention of pain. Personally, I have almost full function of my hands, but that doesn't mean that they are not extremely painful. Yes, arthritis does sometimes make my hands fumbly. There are times when I can't do up zips or find using a knife and fork difficult but this is a minor irritation compared to the long list of other symptoms and difficulties that come with the disease..."

"Then of course there is the pain and the things that go along with constantly being in pain. Lack of sleep, inability to concentrate, general exhaustion and floods of emotion..."

"Too many people already think that arthritis is just something you get in your hands..."

Lastly, I am irritated by the missed opportunity that could have been provided by the young celebrities. Where was the "I'm Drew Neemia, and arthritis affects people MY AGE"?

I realise there are two separate issues that Arthritis New Zealand supposedly advocate: the plea for support in the form of donations, and the plea for support in the form of public awareness and understanding. I just absolutely believe that this campaign could have achieved both to a greater degree if more emphasis was put on the how and the who, rather than just the what.

Day 9 of 30/Whinging

This past week I've had a few things to be proud of. Obviously getting Wallace, and feeling like I rescued him from a very bizarre living arrangement. Going to Sarah's school to help with backdrops. Being a bit more frugal with my money than usual. Finally buying Rufus tickets (well, Sarah had to help me out there, since I couldn't get the credit card to work online...!) And I think I've had a pretty productive week at work too.

On a negative note, I've had a couple of minor (in comparison to the benefits) side effects from Humira. The most annoying of which is that my hands have gone insanely scaly, dry and cracked. I put moisturisers and creams on them all day long, and they still split. My hands were in better condition when I was washing dishes in a cafe for hours on end. Still, it is a minor complaint! My next shot is tomorrow, in my thigh, and I'm sure Charlie's looking forward to administering it! I still can't bring myself to. My last one, two weeks ago, was in my stomach and left a bruise that's STILL there! The EpiPen shoots pretty damn hard. Sigh! I'm not too bothered really, I just like having an outlet for complaints!

Tonight I'm going to a party wearing a moustache. Should be good!

Musings

Some days I just cannot be bothered with anything; I go home from work, climb into bed, and pretty much sit there watching TV until I fall asleep. Other days however, I go home, turn on my iPod, get my art shit together and create for hours on end. I think today is one of the latter days. But I'm going for a drink with Sarah and Carolyn first, so will have to see whether I still have the energy when I get home.

I think my energy is thanks to the rare opportunity I had today to design this pictured cabinet for work. Funnn!

Also, oh wow. I just had a scroll through my Reader, and saw a bunch of fresh, red, raised tattoos. My heart skipped a beat... I want, I want! Having a new, raw tattoo was the best feeling; even the itching. I'm dyyying for number two now! I guess that should be my monetary goal for October (once the Passport renewal is out of the way). Definitely by Christmas, anyway. Eeee...!

Margerison-McCann Wheel

As this is my personal blog, I don’t want to write much about my work life in detail. However today my work team had a meeting after filling out tests for Margerison-McCann Team Management Profiles.

I was placed on the bottom right of the wheel; major role was Concluder-Producer, followed by Thruster-Organiser and Controller-Inspector. As I already was well aware of, I am on the extreme end of the “Introvert” scale. But it was so, so interesting to read through my profile, and more importantly, for my colleagues to read about my profile and for me to read theirs.

It’s amusing that I am such an Introvert considering my role as receptionist; however I’m fortunate that being on the front desk of this organisation is quite a minor element of my role, as most visitors to our office arrive for regular meetings and I already know them.

I haven’t always been such an extreme Introvert; I think during school I wasn’t too different in my working techniques to now, but I definitely spoke out a lot more, and contributed to all aspects of school life more verbally. I went through my most extreme stage of Extroversion during my first year in Wellington; meeting people, partying, attempting to be as outgoing as I could possibly manage. And that year ended with some messed-up stuff, which I think has affected me a lot, and it seems quite obvious now that I somehow associated the bad things that happened with the outgoing person I was. I’m now a great deal more self-conscious than I used to be. I think I’ve always had a tendency to blush, but when I was younger I had the confidence not to care, where as now, as soon as I feel myself going red, I get even more embarrassed, want to hide, and definitely don’t want anyone to look at me.

When I have a project to work on, I like to do it all myself, and only present the polished result. This is something I’m actively working on to fit in better with my colleagues, but it was really nice reading it written down, and made me understand why I work like that.

In my personal life, I am usually quite quiet (there are some friends who would disagree with that, but I think they’re people I’ve either known a long time/very well, and feel extremely comfortable around). I don’t like making small talk, I’m comfortable with silence when in the company of another person, and don’t feel compelled to fill silence unless I have something I feel is worth saying. A lot of people I meet at Tweet Ups are surprised at how quiet I am, because my Tweets can be a bit... er, “out-there”. Now I realise, that even the most fickle of my Tweets (man, I’m such a geek) have been thought out in my mind for longer than they would be if I said them out loud as I thought of them. They have a chance to be re-worded and polished. Additionally, I feel comfortable saying whatever I like on Twitter, because no one can see me as I say it. I’m constantly thinking in all aspects of my life, but I don’t voice many of my thoughts in person. For example, I’m happy to go away from a meeting, and compose an email of my thoughts, but in person; forget about it. I get nervous, I forget what I wanted to say... and if I do manage to get some words out, then I sit back, relieved the attention is off me, and suddenly remember a whole bunch of other points I wanted to make, that my nerves made me forget.

Today has made me think a lot more about where I’m heading in my career, and definitely made me go back to considering tertiary study for my near future.

One other thing I’ll mention is some of my colleagues who said they were deadline-driven, and gave their last-minute work for University qualifications as an example. One of them said how they’d realised that about themselves, that there was nothing they could do to change it, and that they’d just had to learn how to manage it. I found that really interesting, because we’re taught in school how to plan our time, research, not to leave assignments to the last minute. These are obviously great skills to learn about, but this makes me wonder whether there is too much emphasis placed on that method. Obviously some people are naturally inclined to leave things to the last minute, and if that contradicts all the methods being taught in school, subsequently some are going to feel like failures.

Sorry for the massive post (the Introvert venting her thoughts!)

A super-small little peek of a section of the big drawing I'm working on. Emily and my parents are arriving soon. I wish I had straight hair.

I just copied a whole load of images off iPhoto onto an internet-connected computer (Slingshot was FINALLY connected, but we need wireless so bad!) This is a picture of my little sister Emily from last year. I reeeally wish she'd move to Wellington! BFF

Check out more fantastic paintings by Winston Chmielinski here. Fantastic colours, and a similar painting style to my favourite artist of all time, Egon Schiele. From browsing Chmielinski's gallery I would name Colour Me Quiet as my favourite piece.

Since I have two bidders on my little watercolour, I'll absolutely be making more over the next couple of weeks. Could turn in to a useful little money-maker! Really looking forward to improving my technique. For now I'll continue to use watercolours on small, cutesy pieces. However I hope I can develop a style to incorporate into my detailed drawings at some stage.

Will do some more work on my large drawing this weekend, which I can't wait for. When not working on it, I store it hanging on the back of the kitchen door, because I'm so paranoid of something spilling on it! I'm so looking forward to finishing it, though there's a long way to go yet! It's turning out better than I'd hoped, so far, and I think it would definitely sell. Unfortunately the paper isn't very good quality, so I'm not sure I could charge very much, despite the large scale and time it's taking.

I'd been hoping to exhibit this year, but that's obviously not going to happen since it's now August. And I only have two completed pieces and one half-completed. Hopeless! Keeping drawings on an A3+ scale, I guess I'll need to produce at least 20, and preferably more. Perhaps 2011 would be the best time anyway; with the Rugby World Cup on and all.

I went to a SYAOW "meeting" last night at Southern Cross; Sarah, Jo, Carolyn and a new girl, Eevee. Was really nice to have a drink and a chat, and we ended up staying for almost two hours. Eevee is a really sweet girl, and was easy to talk to. She dresses in a wild Japanese-girly-fashion kind of style, with lots of petticoats and lace, and I really admire the way she pulls it off.

Jo and I discussed exhibiting a bit (she was in a group exhibition called Splice with me last year), and she's really enthusiastic about doing a smaller group exhibition, but with more collaborative works, which I think could be fantastic. After my experience with Splice, I'd sort of pushed the thought of developing a theme throughout my work out of my head. It's something I'll definitely need to focus on a lot more. At least with the detailed, inky style I've been doing lately, introducing some motifs across my work shouldn't be too difficult.

The other problem I have is that with all these thoughts about selling work, I really fucking hate my name. I love "Alice". I love "Jones" in that it's my family, and my little sister and I are the last Joneses in this branch of the family, as Dad is the only son. But "Alice Jones" is forgettable and totally already claimed by some poet according to Wikipedia... Unfortunately there's not really any other name I can adopt as a pseudonym. "Niceties"? Haha. My mother's maiden name was "Moody", so that's not happening! I quite like my Dad's mother's ("grandma", I guess, but she died long before I was born) maiden name of Thornton. Annnyway, end of name musings.

Lastly is the plan for tattoo number two... I've been investigating patterns for an upper arm tattoo, probably on my right arm. I don't want a full sleeve, because for some reason tattoos where you can't see any skin gross me out... I know now that I have my first one, that it totally feels like normal skin once it's healed. I'd known that from Charlie's tattoos, but I still had in my head that it would feel like a layer to the person it's on. I just can't shake the "sweaty" feeling when I look at sleeves, so I don't think I'd want one on my body. However, whatever I finally end up with will definitely be large, and take up most of the length and width of my arm, from the side, and likely wrap a little bit too.

The tattoo I have wanted for YEARS is aeroplanes on the side of my thigh (the left one). However, now I that I've had Vodie done on the right one, I want to experience a different body part. From everything I've been told, thighs are almost pain-free compared to other places, and considering how easily I coped with it I'm quick to believe that. Also, obviously they cost a fair bit so I can't go getting them one after the other, so I have to think about the short term, as well as the overall effect once I have several; I don't want two large tattoos on my thighs and nothing anywhere else for several months.

I'm supposed to be at two birthday events this evening; a 24th birthday at 5pm and a 21st at 8pm. Will head to the 5pm one, but really don't see myself as having energy for both. Also I have Sarah's All Blacks party tomorrow night, which I'm sure will involve some face painting and silly pictures. Why do all the events come at once? I can go a month or two, making my own fun on weekends, then all of a sudden everyone decides to throw a party on one weekend. Sigh!

I thought, some time ago, about getting a silhouette portrait tattoo. I just think they look really amazing, and (as odd as it sounds) I like faces, and I'm not a big fan of super-realistic tattoos (my Vodie tattoo is more realistic than I initially intended, however it's still quite stylised.) But then I realised I didn't really have anyone's face that I could get. The person I'd like to have most would probably be my sister Emily... but then it would look like a portrait of myself on myself. Back to the drawing board I guess. These tattoos (from FYT) are super cute, however I don't really like 'couples' tattoos... not such obvious ones, anyway.

My First Tattoo

Finally, I put my money where my mouth is and got my first tattoo! Prepare for a mammoth post, mostly for my future reference!

Getting one is something I have talked about since my mid teens, and I have a long list of images and text that I eventually want. Two of my best friends got me a voucher for my birthday last month, which paid for half of it. Aside from being blown away by the money they spent on me, it is one of the most amazing gifts I've ever received.

Here's the only online image of it at the moment. That was taken about an hour after I got it done. I think it looks even better in person, my camera settings are all messed up at the moment, and it doesn't look as dark in that photo as it actually is.

The Day

I was absolutely terrified, all last week. Unbelievably excited, but scared out of my mind. I went out for dinner with friends the night before, and barely participated in conversation due to constantly thinking about it!

On Friday morning Charlie and I went to the studio, Tattoo City on Cuba Street in Wellington. I'd contacted Kev via his website, after being impressed by his work and discovering it was him who did my boss' tattoo last year which is amazing. He showed me the final plan he had for it; the solid outlines on tracing paper, with lots of other lines to indicate to him where to shade. It was pretty brave of me to go ahead and let him freestyle a bit, but at that point the pain was the biggest issue in my mind and I was just ready to go! After seeing his work though, I trusted him, and knew I'd clearly outlined to him at our two consults what I wanted.

I'd been reading a lot about tattooing online, and asking Charlie constant questions (he has two). I knew what to expect with regard to the process of tattooing, but as everyone had described the pain differently I was so nervous. I just had this fear that it'd be a different pain to anything I'd ever felt and that I'd end up with a little line on me, screaming to stop!

I realise my thigh is a fleshy part of my body, so I'm sure as people say, tattoos on bones must hurt considerably more. But wow I was scared over nothing! The best way I can describe the feeling is like a compass or pin dragging along your skin heavily, but not penetrating it, which is strange. Then there's like a sharper pain, which almost feels separate to the dragging, but more inside your skin. This maybe sounds obvious, but it definitely didn't feel to me like the cutting or scratching that people had described.

I lay down for the first hour, unable to see what he was doing, just listening to my iPod. A lot of the time it was quite easy to zone out to the music and not be aware of much pain. The fact that each time he moves the gun or starts a new line or area, you feel a vibration on your skin before the needles stick in. Having warning like that, and the fact that there's constantly breaks to get more ink and move around the image means I kept pretty relaxed and breathing deeply.

After an hour or so it was my arms that hurt the most! They felt so restless and achy, and I kept trying to stretch them without moving my leg. Eventually I sat up on the bed, which was so much better as I could watch the tattoo progress. When I first sat up and saw it I probably freaked him out as I didn't say anything for ages, just staring. It was about halfway done and I was just so ecstatic with how it looked, I didn't know what to say!

Contrary to my original thought, I didn't end up getting colour done in the frame. I decided I like the way it looks at present, and while I do think I'll eventually get it coloured, I want to have some time to think about the colours and the look of it.

I saw my parents about an hour or two after I got it done. I walked around freezing Wellington in shorts for the afternoon, which may not have been the best idea but it still felt a bit too tender to cover with pants and definitely not tights!

The look on my mother's face when Charlie and I walked across the road to meet them was priceless! Obviously I'd told them what I was getting, but I guess actually seeing it on me was scary!

It made me so so happy when we sat down in the cafe and my parents had a close look at it. My Mum said it was beautiful, and amazingly well done. I know they would absolutely prefer I hadn't taken step one towards tattoo addiction, but it made me happy they accepted it and even admired it.

The Now

So far I haven't had any negative comments about it, though through the grapevine, two members of my family definitely don't approve/like it.

I think the hardest thing is that people expect you to justify your decision. I'm going to write it here, for myself and anyone who's interested, but I don't plan to explain it to people I vaguely know when they see it. It's a cat. End of story. If you like it, you like it, and if you don't then me explaining it's significance is not going to make you like it any more, is it?

I know I can be a bitch online about tattoos I come across that I dislike. If any of this makes me a hypocrite, I'm not bothered. As I said above, if people don't like it based on how it looks then that's fine. I don't care to talk them around to liking it.

The Significance

Considering I don't think anyone reads this blog anyway, I'm just going to attempt to write why I got it.

Obviously it's a portrait of my cat, Vodie. I got him in March 2009 with my ex when we lived in Lower Hutt. Getting him really marks the end of our relationship, which had been an absolute mess. We were broken up within two months, and after a lot of bullshit I eventually managed to move with Vodie to the private downstairs floor of a house in Mount Victoria.

I was living alone for the first time in my life, had just started the job I am currently in, which has been my biggest step up in life since I left high school.

Vodie was my companion in this transition from the trashy, depressed, embarrassing person I'd been to the motivated and happy person I believe I have become.

The day he was run over and killed in November 2009 was one of the worst days of my life. I've been fortunate enough not to have suffered much loss up to this point in my life; grandparents and distant relatives during my childhood has been the extent of it. In my early teens my cat at my parents house was run over and killed as well, which was difficult, but he was my family's pet as opposed to Vodie who was all mine.

I was at work when my landlord called to tell me. I left work and my Mum drove down from Masterton, and my friend Dylan came to my house to keep me company. Vodie was taken by Mum back to her house in Masterton and he's buried in their backyard.

This was one of those 'events' (which I am experiencing more and more of lately) where you really find out who knows you and cares about you.

It's hard to think about how, when I had Vodie, I'd think about how I'd likely still have him in my early thirties, and how much I would have changed by then. It was the first period in my life where I'd been excited about my future, and seriously thought about long-term goals; thinking about always having to find places to live that allowed cats doesn't sound very significant, but it was the first time I'd really made any kind of longterm commitment to anything, and having that taken away was completely devastating.

I am so so happy with how my tattoo's turned out. I wanted it to be a bit stylised, with no names or dates or anything. It's an amazing likeness to him, but it's also "just a cat" and not too obviously a memorial piece. I absolutely love it.