A few years ago, when our family moved to Davao, we had with us a male Chocolate Burmese cat. He belonged to my eldest daughter, Danielle, then in college. He was a cuddly ball of white when he was sold to us for a song by a family friend. Danielle promptly called him Forrest, after the protagonist in the movie “Forrest Gump.” They bonded instantly.
Forrest grew up to be a majestic tomcat, grumpy and aloof, but fiercely loyal to his mistress. He never responded to our remonstrations of affection, preferring to ignore them with a haughtiness fit for aristocracy. My son was rather testy with him, and Forrest would often return the compliment with a spray of urine on his newly pressed shirts. My clothes were mercifully spared from the amber showers, probably because I tolerated his snootiness.