Helen Brown - After Cleo

HELEN BROWN was born and brought up in New Zealand where she studied journalism and became a reporter. After meeting and marrying a Brit, Helen lived in England briefly before returning to New Zealand where she became a popular columnist and had two sons, Sam and Rob. Helens first book had just been published when Sam was run over and killed.

After the birth of her daughter, Lydia, Helens marriage broke up and she moved to Auckland where she worked as a feature writer and columnist. Helen met and married Philip Gentry and had a daughter, Katharine, before the family moved en masse to Melbourne. Helens recent memoir, Cleo, was an international bestseller and is currently being made into a film by the producers of Whale Rider.

After Cleo :

CAME JONAH

How a crazy kitten and a rebelling daughter

turned out to be blessings in disguise

HELEN BROWN

First published in Australia and New Zealand by Allen & Unwin in 2012 First published in the United Kingdom in 2012 by Two Roads,

a division of Hodder & Stoughton Ltd.

Copyright Helen Brown 2012

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.

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Allen & Unwin

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83 Alexander Street

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Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

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Cataloguing-in-Publication details are available

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ISBN 978 1 74237 777 3

Printed and bound in Australia by Griffin Press

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To cats and daughters

who dont always come when called

Contents

Whiskers Tip

Leaving

Arrival

Mystery

Inspiration

Forbidden

Visitation

Inner Terrorist

Abandoned

Rage

Amazons

Preparation

Reunion

Entrapment

Disenchantment

Outside Cat

Inside Cat

Jealousy

Deception

Romance

Allure

Dysfunction

Joy

Celebration

Hostage

Heroes in Wheelchairs

Embracing the Enemy

Yearning

Stardust

New Life

Gratitude

Obsession

Rejection

Cleansed

Sainthood

Needled

Blessed

Serendipity

Island of Tears

Monastic

Disciple

The Question

Reverence

Completion

Tails End

Acknowledgements

Whiskers Tip

I never thought wed end up with a cat crazy enough to want to go for walks. But felines change people. I should know that.

As evening shadows crawl across the kitchen, Jonahs footsteps drum down the hall. He appears in front of me, his red harness snared between his teeth.

Not now, I say, peeling a carrot. Dinners only half an hour away.

His eyes widen to become a pair of lakes. He sits neatly in front of me, snakes his tail over his front feet and examines my face. What do cats see when they look at people? They must be appalled by our lack of fur.

After a moments reflection, Jonah, still carrying the harness, stands up and pads toward me. He balances on his back feet and stretches his impossibly long body against mine. Patting my abdomen with his front paw, he flattens his ears and puts his head to one side. Lowering himself to ground level again, he drops the harness at my feet and emits a baleful meow.

Irresistible.

Crouching, I clip the harness around his soft, athletic body. The cat arches his back in anticipation. His purrs reverberate off the cupboards.

Cruel, too cruel! I hear Mums voice saying. Cats are wildanimals. What are you doing to this poor creature?

Its strange how Mum stays inside my head, even years after shes gone. I wonder if itll be the same for my daughters and theyll hear me wheedling and encouraging them when theyre in rocking chairs.

In an ideal world, Jonah would be free to roam the neighbourhood. But times have changed. We live in cities. Roads are plagued with cars.

A normal cat would hate going out in a harness. Three years with Jonah have taught me hes anything but ordinary. Apart from the fact hes learnt to love his harness, his obsession with gloves, florist ribbon and womens evening wear is beyond the realms of feline sanity.

Hes complicated. While he can seem incredibly intelligent sometimes, he thinks cars are for hiding under. Its not that I want to keep him prisoner, but we live in perilous times. He needs to be safe.

Carrying him into the laundry, I attach the harness to a leash, which is connected to an extension lead, allowing him as much freedom as possible. His purrs vibrate up my arms as I open the back door and place him on the grass.

Standing motionless for a moment, he lifts his nose to savour the warm evening breeze. Its perfume carries stories of mice and pigeons, fluffy white dogs, and cats both friend and enemy. Tales my human senses are too primitive to detect.

Jonah charges ahead, straining at the lead, harness jingling, as we scamper down the side of the house. His youthful energy is exhausting. His confidence, terrifying. Not for the first time, he reminds me of our older daughter Lydia. In fact sometimes I think this beautiful, headstrong creature is more like Lydia than our previous cat, Cleo.

As Jonah pauses at the front gate to sniff the rosemary hedge, I can almost feel Cleo looking down from Cat Heaven and having a good chuckle. Half wild and streetwise, she thought harnesses were for show puppies.

Cats step into peoples lives with a purpose. Many of these magical creatures are healers. When Cleo arrived nearly three decades ago, our family had been shattered to pieces by the death of our nine-year-old son Sam. His younger brother Rob had seen Sam run over and was traumatised. Yet I was so paralysed with grief and anger toward the woman driver I was incapable of giving Rob the support he needed. Part of my anguish came from the thought of Sam dying alone on the roadside. As it turned out, Id been misled.Years later, I received a letter from a wonderful man, Arthur Judson, who said hed been on the roadside and stayed with Sam the whole time.

It took the arrival of a small black kitten called Cleo to make six-year-old Rob smile again. Cleo seemed to understand we were in crisis. Through cuddles, play and constant companionship, shed helped Rob embark on a new life without his older brother. For the first time I understood how profound the healing powers of animals can be.

Our lives changed after Sams death and our hearts never healed completely. But through the years, Cleo stood guardian over us as we slowly pieced ourselves together. Shed curled around my expanding girth through a subsequent pregnancy, then kept me company during endless nights of feeding baby Lydia. A few years later shed been my divorce buddy and, when I was ready, cast a feline eye over my pathetically few suitors to make sure I chose wisely. As it was, Philip the first man Cleo approved of turned out to be the right choice, even if he spends most of his life on a plane these days. Before our daughter Katharine was born, Cleo resumed her tummy-curling duties and was with me during the breastfeeding again.