This is the paw of Basil (not the sharpest tack in the box). When we got him as a kitten over thirteen years ago he hated having his claws clipped. It took two of us, one to try to keep his bicycling legs still and the other to grab one paw and get to work. Even at that we often had to stop after a few claws and wrestle him down at a later date. I am sure his caterwauling could be heard across the neighbourhood. But somewhere through the years he learned that he could survive the ordeal and later that it wasn't so bad. Now I hold him and clip his claws while he purrs. I still, sometimes don't get the whole job done in one sitting; maybe he wants to come back for a second cuddle.