I had a feral Maine Coon that I took out of my father’s apartment the night he died. We had a tussle or two. After that, he became utterly devoted. He used to climb up on my side and wait for me to go to sleep at night. After my bypass, he knew without being told that my chest was hurt, so he’d stay off of it, until I’d sufficiently healed.
I have a 22 lb. Maine Coon that I fostered for the shelter and ended up keeping. He had belonged to a woman who had a mental breakdown while here for the winter from up north-a snowbird tourist-she had thrown the cat out to survive on his own, and he was rescued. He always gets along great with the dog and two other cats, and is the enforcer of good behavior in the house.