When I was young we had a family cat who lived to just a few weeks short of her 21st birthday. Her favorite playground was the roof of the house. It sounded like a monkey up there as she ran around up and over the peak of the pitched roof and galloped around. She did this just about every day of her life. Maybe that's why she lived so long.

Once she overshot the end of the roof and was hanging from the gutter by her front claws and screaming up a storm. I reached up to grab her and, once I got hold of her, she let go of the gutter. I knew how much she trusted me at that point.