Our cat “Pixie” was a refinery rescue kitten back in 1990. She came outta there almost six weeks old, all but totally feral, all teeth and claws. Another week and she’d have been beyond domesticating. My then-girlfriend (now wife) kept her at her place, and the little fuzzball would ambush my ankles every time I walked by. I patiently played “Mama Cat” with her, and cuffed her for her timerity, teaching her when it was not appropriate to claw and bite. In just a few weeks she cut way back on the tooth and claw action, and even let us scratch behind here ears. Briefly.
Pixie’s going on 17, now, and I’m the only human she really tolerates for long periods of time. She crawls under my comforter and sleeps the day away on my side of the bed. At night, if it gets past 10:00, she comes out looking for me, meowing and trying to herd me off to bed. Then, she crawls under the sheet and curls up next to me, or, if I lie on my back, she goes to sleep on my chest. She’ll condescend to allow other humans to pet her some, and she’ll buddy up with my wife if I’m not around, but I’m her favorite human.
I tried the “mom-cat” thing with Hobbes for the better part of the first three months I had her. She didn’t respond to that, though she did learn the word “no.”
Since I didn’t want to hurt her, and she didn’t want to learn not to use her teeth, I used the remote. It was the hardest thing I could find, and I just held it in her mouth.
As for the claws, I began to clip them early, then give her the vaseline. She hates the clipping but she will now eat the vaseline off my finger. And she doesn’t bite!
Our late Agnes was a rescue from the streets, and she had lots of quirks, including an inability to purr. However she was a good cat for almost 19 years, we think. She never scratched the furniture, probably because she reached adulthood without ever *seeing* furniture. Our friend who found her, and eventually gave her to us, spent his money on blacksmithing and pottery, and pretty much lived on the floor!