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I work at a vet hospital, and about four years ago, someone ran up to the door, dropped a box, ran to his car, and drove away. I wasn't there when this happened, but someone went out to check and found seven kittens in the box with a dirty t-shirt and a note saying they were 3 weeks old. 

I was getting ready to move and planned on getting a kitty, so when my coworker came in the next day, she walked up to me, set down a carrier full of kittens and told me to choose my cat.

I gleefully fawned over them all before choosing a very pretty orange and white boy. I had always wanted an orange cat to name Jareth (after the main character from my favorite movie, Labyrinth) and now I had him.

In the time before I moved into my new place, I made sure to cuddle Jareth at work on my breaks. I remember commenting that I hoped he really bonded to me. When it was finally time to bring him home, it took a good 30 minutes for him to get comfortable enough to come out of his carrier.

Now my apartment is his castle, my recliner is his throne, and he is my best friend. I needn't have worried about him bonding with me. He greets me at the door when I come home and cuddles in my lap in the evenings.

He's had to share me with a couple other animals along the way, but he will always be my little "Jar-bear."