For those of you who are joining us for the first time - welcome. And to returning friends - welcome back! Well, it’s been a busy month with Great Dog Morning Teas in support of Save Kiwi Month, Pet Expos and all manner of animal antics. It is great to get up close and meet and greet the people and animals that we create products for and connect with the wider community.
On the Save Kiwi Month, it's not just an initiative that lasts a month, this should be something that is front of mind all year round. Our kiwi is the icon of New Zealand and unfortunately is incredibly susceptible to predator attacks, so with Christmas approaching and travel on our minds be sure to check out where kiwis are prevalent and ensure you keep your dog under control in these areas when traveling...
For those of you dropping in for your first newsletter, welcome, to those of you who regularly open these up and read them, welcome back.
It’s 2016, fast approaching 2017, and when I reflect back it’s been an extremely quick quarter of a century to get to this point - this point being I’m 25 years in the business and still loving it. By profession I’m a packer, producer and purveyor of pet protein but most people just call me Dave.
Anyhooo, we attended the Pet and Animal Expo in Auckland the other weekend and after all this time there are still a lot of the same faces in the pet world that have been there for decades, and then there are a whole lot of new pet owners. The common theme of everyone who visited our stand is: they all love their pets, care about what they feed them and there is a genuine interest in people getting back to natural pet foods. The common theme from those coming into the category is that raw feeding's something new and cutting edge - the reality: we have been producing and advocating raw pet food for almost 50 years...
Being a dog-friendly office, we had had quite a lot of Poppy time at work over the last couple of weeks much to everyone’s delight. I notice she has a ritual when we arrive in the mornings: a quick scoot around the desks and offices to check out who's in the house and (no doubt) who has left a tasty morsel in their rubbish bin. Then it's laying in wait for each person to arrive whereby they are greeted with a lashing tail and bum wiggle with the expectation of a pat and a cuddle. From there, Friday's pie day so there are sad brown eyes and chins on knees everywhere trying to scab a tiny morsel of pie crust. If I can’t find Poppy in my office she is generally trying to score a titbit or has managed to find a sunny spot by a window - uncanny how they manage to do that.
It has been a funny month since I last put digit to keyboard. It started off with Sam, our Pet Advisor and general boffin of petfoodology, flying away to Borneo to spend three months at the Sepilok Orangutan Rehabilitation Centre. Sam being Sam, she is still assisting from the jungle with customer enquiries, Facebook, surveys and the like, I’m sure we will have some interesting stories on her return. Next up we had our Jimbo's Pottles recognised as a finalist in the Worldstar Packaging Awards which was pretty cool, and then………………………………………………………….
Welcome to the Jimbo's July Newsletter. Here we are deep in the heart of winter, mud puddles everywhere and soon-to-be daffodils and ducklings gracing the landscape.
Given that it's winter and the chill is on, Poppy the dog is Pyjamafied every night before bed and it’s always a little of a battle. It kinda goes like this:
Dad: “Okay bud, time for bed, PJs on and piddle and poo.” Poppy (mind bubble): “Oh but Dad it's cold out there and scary and wet and the fire's sooo warm and do I have to...!?”
I will start this month off with something I’m sure all the dog owners out there experience almost daily but something which never ceases to amuse me. I open up the door of my wagon at night when I pull up at home, and there waiting is this tail-wagging, noise-making exuberant little pot-licker named Poppy. Once I have had the cursory sniff to validate that I am who I should be, there is the fast galloping-round-the-front-lawn Dad's home Dad's home Dad's home Wooohooo! barking dance. This is regularly interspersed with sideways glances to see what can be gathered up during the dance as a gift; a doggy token of joyousness and pleasure at the fact that I have returned. On the expiration of the doggy dance, jumping up and down, barking bum-wiggle tail-wagging parade, the gift is offered and removed and offered and removed and offered and removed and so the game begins.
My Mum and Dad have a pocket rocket; that is to say they have an energetic wee scally-wag of a dog named Molly. She’s what some would call a miniature Foxy, she’s what I would call a fart in a jar waiting for someone to take the lid off. When they do, woohoo, it’s like I’m only little but I have the energy of something twice the size that’s powered by Kryptonite and I’m going to show you just how exciting that is all in one simple movement that involves my whole body wriggling and accelerating at close to the speed of sound while dodging most things in my path while circumnavigating the space that I currently occupy. Just the thought of it makes me tired, add to this explosion of energetic excitability my old girl Poppy, and the whole situation intensifies to a point of a black, white and brown blur defying the laws of modern physics, gravity and all canine logic and sensibilities while causing distress, hilarity and genuine concerns for all personal and public safety for all people in the near vicinity.