Today I had two main tasks. The first was a presentation to a group of counsellors from Mt Eden and the North Shore and the second was teaching our cat Bug to use a catdoor. Both felt relatively unthreatening and manageable. The good thing about presenting to a group of counellors is that even if you're total rubbish they're not going to roll their eyes or walk out yelling "what a total load of bollocks, you should consider selling knitting patterns and find a shade of lipstick that actually suits you" or other hurtful, self esteem damaging comments. That would be totally uncounsellorish and grounds for being immediately struck off and having to wear an "I'm a naughty counsellor" sign at the next AGM.

We had a really interesting discussion about brain chemistry and the myth of serotonin deficiency that is promoted by prescribers. Two of the counsellors were former mental health workers and confirmed for their rather shocked colleagues that there is no evidence of any chemical imbalance underlying depression. Counsellors who had been told this by medical colleagues said they felt really betrayed - much as parents do when their children suicide as a result of drugs that were supposed to correct a non-existant chemical imbalance.

We talked a lot about a social approach to suicide prevention, with a particular emphasis on how to support people through relationship break ups which, as the Chief Coroner recently said, are a strong theme in suicides. There was lots of great discussion and an invitation for CASPER to be involved in Counselling Awareness Week early next year.

Feeling positive after the presentation I was rather blase about the task of teaching Bug to use the new catdoor. He's a smart cat and I'm an ex-teacher (and eccentric cat lady) so what could go wrong? The exercise certainly started positively. I scrunched down on the concrete outside the front door (in a very dignified way of course) and held the cat door open while making enticing sounds and gestures. While anyone watching may have thought I was having a seizure or practicing a break dancing move designed for a tragically uncordinated pixie, Bug appeared to find my actions attractive and jumped through the door. As so often happens though, just as things seem to be going well, disaster struck. On his second leap through the door, I managed to lose my hold on it just in time for it to smack him in the face as he was half way through. The lesson learned therefore was not that the catdoor is the gateway to life enhancing autonomy and freedom but that it is an instrument of torture which has possessed his usually kind owner and turned her into a feline abuser.

Many hours later, and with the assistance of Tibbles Love Heart Treats for Cats, I have managed to convince him to come within 3 metres of the door and eye it suspiciously. At this rate of progress, expect a blog announcing successful day to day use of the catdoor in around four months.

Hope your day was full of tasks successfully completed or sensibly shelved.

Maria