We have an orange Manx cat named Couscous.

We have had him for the past three years; he still thinks that he is a kitten.  He runs around like he's got a few screws loose in that kitty noggin of his; my wife, Stella, calls it "having a flea".  It's the funniest thing ever.

In addition to that, Couscous plays fetch: he will retrieve objects (small toys, pieces of paper, etc.) whenever I, Stella, or the kids throw it in his direction; he never seems to tire of the game.

We got Couscous at the local no-kill animal shelter.  Back then, he was a tiny, helpless object just looking for a home, or else he was going to be put down.  It seemed nobody wanted him until we entered the picture; when we saw "Cousie", it was instant love.  We took him hom to be our pet.

We haven't regretted it for a minute.  He's the best thing that could have ever happened to us.

I don't know what's going to happen to him in the future, but one thing IS certain: we will do all we possibly can to ensure that he has a good life and to make him as happy and content.  We feel blessed in having this lively, mischief-seeking cat in our lives; I just wish we knew of him sooner, when he was a kitten.  (He's now going on four years old: a teenager by cat standards, but still very, very active, as his antics will attest over and over again.)