All of these stories are so special. When I was 7 and my sister was 11, one of our friends took in a pregnant stray. The mama had only one kitten, and was very sick. The little orange boy came to live with us when he was 3 weeks old. Boy did we beg our dad, who is not a cat lover, to please let us have him. Finally, he agreed. Tigger was literally "H%*& on wheels" for the first few years of his life. He broke things, clawed the furniture, would leave for days at a time, scratched me, etc. He was very much like my Butter, as a matter of fact, but would let you hold him occassionally. AvaJoy, I had the "climbing the face" experience with him too. But that boy was so special. He sucked our fingers, I guess because he had been taken from his mama too soon. In his later years, my dad took care of him more than anyone. He lived to be 18 years old, and I can remember lying in bed, crying on my husband's shoulder when they called to tell me that he had died in his sleep.