Last week, I was persuaded, against my better judgement, to adopt a stray kitten who answers to the name of Kombol. She had been rescued from an electric junction box near the Jadavpur bus depot by students from our university. This was followed by a hectic campaign to find her a home, in which videos of the kitten attacking a newspaper were posted on YouTube, but to no avail. Many students were willing to take her in, but were thwarted by hard-hearted parents. The rescuer of the kitten was already providing shelter to four strays and was in danger of becoming homeless herself.

So Kombol was brought to this columnist’s lair, to share territory with four other full-grown specimens of the Felix domesticus who receive two meals every day but are not allowed indoors. Kombol has been allowed to live inside till such time as she is able to step out on her own and whoop it up with the local toms. At the time of writing, she has already made the acquaintance of one or two interested parties, but under the strict supervision of a human chaperone.

Kombol’s arrival was reminiscent of the arrival of Momo the dog 17 years ago, when the English department where I now teach had gone on an excursion to Darjeeling and Sikkim. The practice of student excursions has fallen somewhat into disuse (maybe because fewer and fewer teachers are willing to risk life and limb escorting them), but during our time as students, we made full use of the university-subsidised annual trips.

On one such trip to the hills, a bedraggled and malnourished puppy attached herself to the touring party near Kurseong post office, and insisted on boarding the bus which was carrying us. In course of the journey to New Jalpaiguri, she was rather unimaginatively named Momo by my class. We smuggled her aboard Darjeeling Mail where she spent a noiseless night chained under a berth. The next morning I marched into the house with a puppy under my arm, much to the amazement of the family. Initial misgivings were soon dispelled as Momo grew into a fine, upstanding dog, and some kind of unofficial mascot of the department. She has been dead for four years now, but to this day old alums ask after her.

As I write, Kombol is running around in the back garden where Momo is buried, and trying her best to burrow down holes probably dug by weasel or stoat. She is strangely attracted to computer keyboards and has already sent garbled chat messages to various unsuspecting Gmail users. On one occasion, she immobilised the mouse for almost 10 minutes by pressing the Fn + F5 keys. Now I need a cat-proof keyboard.

The author teaches English at Jadavpur University