Yet another book that I tried really hard to like. When the author is talking about Cleo, the book gets interesting, even if she does anthropormorphise her pet. Otherwise, there's plenty of self-pity, whining, and a backhanded slap to the good people of Christchurch, New Zealand. While I can understand the author is understandably grief-stricken and mourning at the loss of her eldest son, she also fails to see the agony the rest of her family is going through. This one just gets three stars from me -- as much as I liked Cleo the cat, there just wasn't enough to carry the book. Only somewhat recommended.
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