These days I spend my evenings talking to a stray cat, Minty, on my balcony. She is petite, weary, and has a pansy-like face. She squints at me, meowing in a complaining tone, as if asking me why I turned up so late, or where I have been all this while. Under that fluffy, winter-ready white coat, is a short-legged, well-boned feline with a rather plumy tail. Chatting with her each evening after work, I have found a rhythm to my days.

It’s late November now as I continue work from home. In the emptiness of the house, I experience a new kind of loneliness that threatens to undo me. In this isolation, it’s this white cat and her acquaintances from the neighbourhood that have kept my steady company. This clowder is a mixed bag: all ages, genders, a mackerel tabby, a couple with gold hair coats, three pretty white young ones, a beautiful black one and others.