Years ago, my brother was cutting down some old trees for firewood and didn't realize that one of the trees had a squirrel nest in it. My brother was careful to place the babies in a little nest on the ground and then checked on them several hours later, the momma squirrel never came back and he decided she must have been killed. My brother felt so bad, he brought the four babies home, kept two, and gave one to us, and the other one to my parents. We went to the vet who gave us some pet formula and we raised her with a tiny bottle he gave us. All four babies made it and round up being pets. We named ours Trouble and after she got big enough to survive on her own released her in our front yard, thinking she'd find a mate and go back to the wild. Nope, she found a mate and had several litters of pups, but she remained tame up until she died a few years later. She lived in some oak trees in our yard, but every time we pulled into the driveway, she'd come running and run straight up our legs to sit on our shoulders or wrap herself around our necks. Every time we opened the door, we had to be careful or she'd run in. Our neighbors adored her and were always feeding her. However, Trouble never did figure out which humans to avoid.
She just loved people and would charge anyone that entered the yard to run up their legs (sometimes she wouldn't even bother to run up the legs, but would just take a flying leap at you and expect you to catch her. Everyone that pulled into our driveway accused us of having an attack squirrel.
I don't know how many times I'd hear someone yelling, look out the window and see some salesman dancing around, arms flopping, screaming like a girl, trying to knock Trouble off them. I'd open the door and accuse them of scaring my squirrel. Most left rather quickly with Trouble either sitting on the ground with her back arched and fur standing straight up or on my shoulder, hissing and chattering at them.