Cleo & Rob

I was thrilled when my friend and renowned author, Helen Brown asked me to launch her new book, Cleo & Rob. This is the children's version of her book Cleo, which tells the true story of the small black cat that rescued Helen's family after her oldest son, Sam, died in a tragic accident.

Cleo has been translated into over 16 languages and has sold more than two million copies, clearly touching many people around the world - and the children's version is equally as powerful.

Helen and I met when she and her family moved into the house across the street about twenty years ago - after Sam and before Jaz and George had died. Here's what I had to say on why this seemingly regular children's book is in fact, so important.

Helen and I share a special bond – we’re part of the club that no family wants to belong to – those that have lost children. There isn't a name for this status – for the mothers, the fathers, the sibling, grandparents, cousins.

People are uncomfortable with death. And the more we avoid talking about it, the longer it stays shrouded, buried and feared. It’s not just our fear of death itself, but the fear of making other people uncomfortable, that prevents us from sharing our stories.

Most people know someone who’s lost a loved one, and yet social norms force us to quickly skate over the surface with impersonal platitudes like ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ or ‘Terrible news about John.’ While these acknowledgments are well-intended and often appreciated, they don’t really help

Put another way, we have a group of people who’ve experienced the death of someone close, fearful of upsetting those around them by talking about it. And the people around them are fearful of bringing the topic up because they don’t want to upset the person who’s grieving. And that’s just not helpful.

We need to find a way to bridge this gap.

If you were building a house, organising a party or even having a baby - you’d have a bank of other people’s experiences that had been shared over the years to draw on. And you probably wouldn’t hesitate to phone a friend to better prepare yourself for what’s ahead.

It’s through these shared experiences, of all facets of life, that we learn to cope and accept and feel connected.

*******

Death might be the penultimate unmentionable, but the death of a child is the ultimate. There’s no conciliatory ‘At least they had a great innings’ – because they didn’t. It just doesn’t follow the expected rules of nature – the Lion King’s circle of life, if you will.

But like Helen, I do tell people about my children. Not all the time and not every time, but if asked how many children I have and the mood takes me, I’ll spill the beans. I’ve had people shocked into silence, a heart-felt acknowledgment and even been thanked for sharing.

And if adults have trouble talking about death, imagine how that mystery is translated by children.

Death is a fact of life, and it can happen at any age. But we don’t tell children that. Of course, we hope it doesn’t happen that way, but it might.

If the concept of death is introduced at an early age, discussed in a matter-of-fact tone on regular, relevant occasions, understanding and familiarity replace fear and mystery. As part of this conversation, it’s important to convey that if and when a death occurs, that life goes on. It’s not the same life, it is irrevocably changed – but in time, there will be joy and happiness, laughter…  and even cats!

It’s exactly this important story that Helen has tenderly captured in her new book, Cleo & Rob. She hasn’t shied away from the depths of sadness surrounding Sam’s death but thoughtfully stepped through the process we go through when someone dies. The disbelieve, anxiety, isolation and withdrawal, before the re-emergence and reconnection, all seen through the eyes of her younger son, Rob. Beautifully illustrated by Phoebe, it’s a very important story to tell.

My hope is that this book will not only introduce children to the concept of death, grief and recovery but that it will spark the conversation in families and among friends. We need to be able to tell our stories without the fear of upsetting someone, to learn to listen and come to terms with death – even that of a child.

Author Helen Brown (right) with illustrator, Phoebe Morris

Helen told me that some media interviewers were clearly very uncomfortable with the theme of her new book. I said it reminded me of when I didn't eat olives (yes, really!). My mother suggested I eat six in a row and she was right - I now really like them. So I suggest that people uncomfortable with reading this book, should sit themselves down and read it - six times in a row!!

Cleo & Rob is available at many bookstores, on and offline, including Amazon

Need a laugh? Pop into the vet.

When I say 'laugh', I don't mean that slightly hysterical, nervous laugh you involuntarily emit when they tell you how much you owe them - because if you have a pet, that's axiomatic.

I seriously believe the veterinary clinic has been overlooked as a sitcom opportunity, evidenced by one of my pre-Christmas stints in the waiting room. Picture this:

A heavily decaled station wagon, with palm trees, tropical flowers, blue skies and a Paradise Pet Resort branding rolls into the car park. An extremely large man dressed in black pants and a black shirt with the resort's logo embroidered on the pocket heaves himself out of the car and lumbers in. It would have been so much funnier if he'd talked in  Little Britain-type camp voice - he didn't but you can pretend.

Good morning, he says to the girl behind the desk. I'm John from the Paradise Pet Resort.... I have a booking for Tipsy and Mr Pickles.
Ah! she replied. Yes, Tipsy is here but I haven't seen Mr Pickles this morning. Let me give his owner a call and see where he is.

She catches one of the nurses as she goes past. Could you get Tipsy ready to go to the resort, please?

She then makes the call and it's clear she has to leave a message: Hi, it's Chrissy from the vet, just wondering if Mr Pickles will be here shortly? His transfer to the resort has arrived and will be leaving in about 15 minutes. If you could give us a call that'd be great. If he doesn't make it this morning, there's another transfer on Wednesday. Thank you.

As Tipsy was brought to reception in a cage and unceremoniously slid into the back of the car, no one was laughing, everyone was very serious and business-like. You'd think they were transferring guests at The Mirage in Fiji.

Is this what they do at a cat resort??

There does seem to be an unspoken competition for who can give their cat the silliest name (and surely 'Gary' is up there) but I don't think I could have those kinds of conversations without at least a little giggle. Perhaps they're all immune.

As I was leaving, a lady came in with a small child; We're here to collect Sizzle.  Of course they were!

Cool (Cold?) Cats

My friend Georgie was telling me about her cat last week. It had been hit by a car and sustained some pretty horrific injuries. Against her better judgement, she allowed the vet to talk her into treating rather than euthanising. And here she is, some weeks and more than three and half grand later, with one very sad cat. In spite of her 'investment', she's not convinced that putting the poor thing down might not still be the best option. I'm sure she'll make the right decision.

It reminded me of when our old cat Koshka expired his nine lives. He'd become so fragile and senile we'd had to contain him to the back garden as he'd twice wandered off and couldn't find his way home. On both occasions, some good Samaritans delivered him to the local vet and being micro chipped, they called for me to go and collect him. He was 17 or 18 and pretty much on his last paws.

The end was pretty painless - for us. We'd been holidaying and came home to a note on the door from a vet asking to call. To cut a long story short, our elderly neighbour had been feeding him and noticed something wasn't right so asked another neighbour to help. Having their own menagerie, they whipped Koshka up to the 24/7 vet where a seizure was diagnosed. They admitted him, made him comfortable but he died before we were back in the country. Which turned out to be kind of lucky.... the vet said as we hadn't been there to gain permission, they'd treated him as a stray and there was no charge. I did offer, but they wouldn't take it.

The vet said I could come and collect him if I wanted to bury him in the garden. I did. I took some flowers for the vet, one of the kids and Koshka's basket. The vet took the basket and brought it back, loaded with one cold dead cat, straight from the freezer in a calico bag. I wanted to offer again to pay, but at that exact moment, a small, distressed child with a parent and a cardboard box burst into the room. 'Excuse me one moment please,' said the vet. The child looked my way and in a moment of panic, I slammed the dead cat, in its basket, against my chest lest she notice. I stood there for a good ten minutes with the very cold cat sucking the warmth from my body before I had the opportunity to offer the vet money -  which was again declined.

I was fond of Koshka. He was as a loyal as a dog to me. But at the end of the day, and perhaps because I was dealing with bigger kid issues, I realised he was just the cat.

Weird Tokyo: Part I

Thanks again for your patiences! 

There was so much weird stuff in Tokyo - amazing, curious, fabulous - but weird.

Here are the first lot of highlights:

• Maiddreamin. Originally developed to cater to the fantasy of Japanese men to have subservient young girls in French maid outfits talking in baby voices and calling them master, these restaurants are now frequented by couples, women and tourists but they're no less odd. The one we went to promised 'magic' which turned out to be us reciting silly dittos in Japanese/English, drawing love-heart shapes in the air and meowing like cats. The real surprise was the fact we did it! Check out Sass's burger and dessert - getting the idea? And the flakes on our noodles 'danced' - this wasn't part of the magic, just paper thin flakes of something - fish? seaweed? - moving with heat and moisture. You pay to get in, pay to have a photo with the maids but you can take pics of your food for free. There are rules I found on the net including not touching the pmaids' bodies and not asking for their personal contact details. Yikes.

• Cat Cafe. Yep - not content with just maids, we went  to a cat cafe as well. (Thanks Sarah McSweeny for that tip via FB!) The ladies who ran the joint were surprised we only wanted 30 minutes (you pay by time) including a drink. They clearly didn't like us - perhaps they coul recognise non cat lovers. We have a cat at home, Gary, and he's less snarly than these ones. Mind you, if I was shut in a small over heated room being pawed by people all day I'd probably be snarly too. Like the maid restaurant, there are rules - like don't kick the cats. Seriously - I'm not making that up. We had to slip into slippers, talk quietly and not touch any cats with pink or white collars. There were people in there who clearly love nothing more than nestling in on a couch, covering their lap with a supplied blanket and patting cats. Hmmmm.

 All slippered up and ready to.... pat?!

Peak hour at the cat cafe. Lucky we didn't get thrown out for this pose!

Cosplay. This is 'costume play' and apparently adopted by kids who are/were bullied at school so it gives them an alter ego. Not often you see peeps in Melbourne get out to a Sunday market dressed like this. The guide book said there are hoards of them on the weekend in Harajuku - there aren't really, but there are a few - and they're very friendly! 

• In the same area on the same weekend, we saw a group of Japanese rock-a-billies doing their thing with a huge beatbox like I've not seen since the 80s. No picture necessary - it's in your head clear as day!

• How's this gem we found in electric town: Connect to the Future - a remote control car OR toilet. You decide!

Don't think I've forgotten Japanese toilets - they deserve a post of their own!