In the early 1980s, Helen Brown was a 20-something journalist mum of two adored boys: Sam (almost 9) and Rob (6). Helen and the boys’ father, Steve, had married very young and were having some problems, but their Wellington home was largely happy and the boys were thriving. In anticipation of his upcoming birthday, the family had visited the home of a friend whose cat had just given birth, and Sam picked out a vivacious black kitten. He named her after the Egyptian queen in recognition of her regal bearing and glossy coat. She would be ready to leave her mother in a few weeks, and Sam couldn’t wait; he loved all animals.

Sam was killed a week later when, having found an injured bird, he stepped out in front of a car near the Brown home as he carried it to the vet. His little brother was with him. Brown writes with exquisite pathos of the initial weeks following his death, and their punctuation by the arrival of Cleo, now of age, at her new home. The devastated family had forgotten all about her, and Brown’s first instinct was to send her back; it wasn’t the time for a new pet. But Rob loved her, and she wasted no time creeping into her new mistress’ heart.

What follows is the life story of both a cat and a family; it is no spoiler to say that the Browns’ marriage broke up, that Brown met someone new and that Rob didn’t remain an only child for long. Brown recounts the ups and downs that accompanied Cleo’s nearly 25-year lifespan, including, in one of the funniest and warmest passages, a ‘gap’ year in the UK and Europe by Brown and her new partner, Philip.

Cleo was left behind with a trusted friend; the couple decided, in a fit of romantic devotion, to marry in Switzerland. It swiftly became apparent that the Swiss authorities were determined to deny their wish, demanding that all personal documents dating back to high school be produced and witnessed in triplicate. When that criterion was met, they imposed a rule that the marriage would be legal only if performed by an English-speaking Swiss minister, and such a creature proved nearly impossible to find.

Sensitive readers should be warned; this is at times a very saddening book, not only due to Sam’s death but because it cover’s Cleo’s life from birth to death, and the ‘high priestess’ of the Brown family is as real as any human Brown describes. I was struck by how well, and cogently, Brown wrote about the loss of her son; she has addressed the subject in some of her many columns in the former Dominion and in Next magazine, and her talent for concise, direct and affecting writing is on full display here.

Anyone who has loved a pet, laughed at their antics and taken solace in their company will relish this book, which Brown dedicates to “anyone who says they’re not a cat person, but secretly is.” For a special treat, visit www.helenbrown.com and read Cleo’s blog. She’s reporting from cat heaven, and in one of the recent entries bemoans the surfeit of farmed salmon. A personality as strong as this one doesn’t go away.

3.5/5 Stars:  Funny, touching, and one of the loveliest stories of a family I have read in a long while.