Originally published at: Feral cat learns to love new human
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Pretty cool.
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I did much the same thing with my feral boy, Gus. I’d managed to catch him and got him neutered and was feeding him on the back steps. One day in April that year, I was sitting beside him as he was eating, and when he finished, he climbed into my lap, curled up, and went to sleep. It was like having a raccoon sleep in my lap. He started to accept pets, but I had to wear very heavy leather gloves. By winter I was able to get him inside, using the same method as she. Eventually he was litter box trained, and never went outside again. He liked to sleep under the covers and gave the best head butts.
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This is how I befriended my Dulce.
Of my five cats, two were adult ferals (Ruby and Dulce), and Pastel was wandering around as a youngster but willingly entered my home and decided to stay.
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A friend adopted a cat from the colony at Arecibo that the scientists took in after hurricane Maria. For some reason these cats needed new homes last year. The cat has made itself home inside the wall of her condo and barely acknowledges my friend exists. The poor cat gets frightened by weather and then stops using her litter box altogether. She is very wily and has avoided attempts to trap her so we can close up the wall. This has been going on for over six months. Kitty psychologists have been consulted. We would be delighted if my friend could actually make friends with the cat the lives in her wall.
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I adopted a traumatized cat about 13 years ago, and we figured out he was triggered by the number of things going on around him at the same time. So, at first one person in the room, quietly, then that person could move around more and more freely. Then escalate to two quiet people (don’t sneeze!), etc.
He slept by my feet for most of his life, but it took 10 years for him to really acclimate to normal house chaos. Then the lap-sitting started, and I had a grin of glee like Bruce’s owner.
He passed this past July (cancer, sigh), and was such a great buddy.
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The wandering cat (to paraphrase, not all who wander are feral?) that we’ve been feeding on and off for several years is so polite. He waits at the door sill even when the door is open (ecept the time he came in and sprayed 
), and over time I think he’s been becoming more dependent on us, though we know he gets food from other places. We really should get him neutered one of these days, but I don’t know how we would get close enough to catch him, he’s so skittish. We’ve seen him go up and down over the years, scrawny to healthy back to scrawny and back to healthy again, sometimes scratches on his face and sometimes not. It’s hard; even though we can’t cuddle we’ve come to care for him but I know we can’t really take responsibility for him as we are out of town too often, and after having cats for a long time we’ve grown to like being able to have non-destroyed furniture. But those darn cats, I just can’t quit them 
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Virtually all of mine have been strays, but Gus was the only feral. It’s so rewarding to see this frightened animal at risk, blossom into a happy, secure, affectionate companion.
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When Gus made strides, like getting his whole self in the house, or came in and got on the bed, I’d quietly phone a friend and say “The feral cat is on the bed!”
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That probably triggered a Code Phrase Detector at the NSA; placing you on a watch-list 
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