The Cats of Fort Cochin

We leave noisy Mumbai and fly south along the coast to Kochi where we are picked up and driven to the little town of Fort Cochin. Situated on the Arabian Sea, sleepy Fort Cochin is a historic place famous for its ancient cantilevered Chinese fishing nets and its  significance in the spice trade. It's also the spot where Vasco da Gama first set foot on Indian soil in the 15th century. Today it is known among travellers as the home stay capital of India.

We will hole up here for the next eight days at a tiny guest house easily spotted by its two vine covered Romeo and Juliet balconies, one of which opens off our room.

Wandering out into the village, we haven't gone far when we spot what will be the first of many cats. Sleek, with distinctive triangular faces, these cats are in sharp contrast to the gigantic pair we've left back home. We see cats of every colour often in front of hotels and home stays, occasionally lying the doorways of shops insisting with a glance that they be carefully stepped over. None of them seem overly nervous or overly friendly

but happy to do what cats do everywhere--sleep, eat, prowl and play.

I am reminded of other cats we've encountered in our travels. Years ago when I was on a shoot in The Philippines, I got to know a trio of cats at the outdoor cafe in Manila where the crew ate every night. In addition to my own dinner, I always ordered a whole chicken for them to share.

More recently in Oaxaca, we loved a gorgeous sphinx-like cat who would scamper up a tree, jump across a significant gap to our open window, and settle into the middle of our bed for a long nap. In Luang Prabang our guest house was home to several cats, one of whom adopted us and was happy to be ours for the month we stayed.

As the day moves by, we find ourselves walking along the waterfront. This is a working fishing village after all, not a beach town, and the sea is full of boats of every description. We are approached by good-natured

sellers offering sandalwood and coral necklaces, intricately carved wooden boxes, and complicated musical instruments. We slip by them easily with the comment that we'll be here for a while and are in no rush to buy anything.

I've long since learned never to say, "Maybe tomorrow..."

And, of course, we encounter more cats.

I've now managed to work myself into a real lather about who looks after and feeds these many cats of Fort Cochin. As we round the corner for our guest house, I have my answer.

It's dusk now and I see a sari-clad woman crouched down in front of her home, a platter of fish in her hand. She is surrounded by cats, each of whom politely takes a fish from the platter. She clearly loves these cats and tells me proudly that she has eight of her own and that no cat in the village ever goes hungry.

The cats are content...and so am I.