One evening, I stepped into my closet to toss socks into the hamper.

As I leaned down in the darkness, I felt a pat pat pat on my head.

Bats? Mice? The boogeyman? I shrieked, yanked the chain on the light—and saw a little black cat head poking out between the sweaters on the top shelf.

“Harley,” I screamed, heart pounding. “You scared me.”

He blinked down at me, not upset in the least. “What?” his look seemed to say.

Now that's cattitude.

How does one define “cattitude”? It's not a word that appears in the dictionary. But it's a term every cat lover innately understands.

Cattitude is your kitty seeing the bottom of her dish and reacting as if it's a four-alarm fire, meowing and head-butting you until you replenish those kibbles, then taking one bite and wandering off for a nap.

When your cat unrolls all the toilet paper in the house, even though she owns 45,976 catnip-stuffed toys, that's cattitude.

Every time your cat pounces on your face while you're sleeping and then darts away, strolls along that counter he knows perfectly well he's not supposed to frequent, or struts by with a dead critter in his mouth, a random act of cattitude has occurred.

Cattitude isn't just about what your cat does, though—it's about that “I-don't-care, you're-human-and-you'll-never-totally-get-why-I-do-what-I-do” look. Cattitude is about being unapologetically feline. Cats don't accept blame, they don't feel regret, and they never take “no” for an answer.

Deep down, maybe not so deep down, every cat believes he is king of the world. He also believes this fact is so obvious, it's not even worth discussing. In a difference of opinion, you're human, he's a cat. Case dismissed. Hey, we got any tuna?

Does YOUR cat have cattitude? Send us a photo of your kitty displaying “cattitude”—and we'll showcase our faves in a Love Dem Cats slideshow! Email your photo to lovedemcats@guideposts.org. Be sure to include your cat's name and tell us a little about what he or she is doing in the picture. Even if it's simply, “Muffin haz a mad.” (We're cat people. We get it.)

—Allison Ruffing

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Find the inspiration you're looking for in Time Out for the Spirit's more than 250 two-minute devotionals, each including a Scripture, a Prayer and a true story.

I was lying on the couch the other night when Sal assumed her usual position, nestling in the crook of my bent knees.

Dean curled up a few feet away, establishing her independence, yet still relishing the warmth of our closeness on the couch.

The three of us sat there for a while, me lightly scratching Sal behind the ears (she loves that!). I got to thinking how enriched my evening was just by the mere presence of these two cats.

As I wrote a while ago, our first encounters weren't exactly smooth. Back then they were my husband's angsty 2-year-old cats, and I was moving in on their territory, stealing their man. But as we really got to know each other, we developed an inseparable bond. They're now my best friends!

Sal wiggled around by my feet, changing position so that she was perched on my thigh facing me, paws dangling over the tops as if she were sitting at a desk. I looked at her earnest little face and realized that my first meeting with them wasn't really the beginning of our story together. It actually began one New Year's Eve over 6 years ago, when my husband met these tiny little kittens for the first time.

I realized I'd never asked him about the specifics of this first meeting. He told me the story later that night.

He recalled that about six and a half years ago, he was a bachelor living alone in a large city apartment. He wanted the companionship of a pet, but his job at a local newspaper didn't afford him the time needed to take care of a dog. He decided he wanted to adopt a cat instead, and wrote about his experiences trying to find one in a newspaper article.

A friend of ours, Stacey, read his piece in the paper and contacted him. She was a social worker with a client who had just been hospitalized after adopting two kittens. Rather than take them to an animal shelter on behalf of her client, she asked my husband if he wanted to take them in. Though he had only planned on one cat, he said he didn't have the heart to separate the two baby sisters. 

On New Year's Eve 2004, he drove over to Stacey's house to meet little Sal and Dean, who at that point were only about a month old. He walked in the door and there they were! Tiny little things that fit into the palm of his hand! It was love at first meow...er...sight!

"Meet your new kittens!" Stacey said, handing him a new carrier.

He took them home that night and rang in the new year with them curled up in his lap. The rest, as they say, is history.

It's hard for me to imagine them as tiny kittens, as I knew them only when they were grown. But at moments like those when my husband or I can just lie with them on the couch for hours, enjoying each others' company, I realize it doesn't matter. Cats live in the moment...and mine inspire me to do the same!

—Jessica Bloustein

Do your cats enrich your lives in simple and wonderful ways? We'd love to know all about how they do! Email us at lovedemcats@guideposts.org.

I have two cats. They’re jerks.

Don’t get me wrong. I love them to pieces. Some might even say it borders on obsession.

But I also recognize them for what they are: fuzzy little creatures determined to make my life difficult.

For instance, they LOVE to do things they’re not supposed to do.

Exhibit A:

They know they’re not allowed on the table. They hop up there when they think I’m not looking, and they jump down as soon as I come toward them to shoo them off.

They know they shouldn’t be up there. They just don’t care.

Exhibit B: They will destroy my furniture any chance they get, either by looking at me and digging their claws right on in

or by ripping the stuffing out of my couch just for fun. Or by occupying any available drawer so there’s no room for my stuff to fit. Or by leaving little black cat hair all over my furniture.

I could go on.

I know, I know. This is what cats do. This is what I signed up for when I picked out these tiny little kittens and brought them home.

But I see the gleam in their eyes. I know they’re doing it on purpose. I see how they calculate exactly how much trouble they will get in just before they shred my new bag or pee in my suitcase or knock little pieces of cat food all over the floor. They think about it, and then they do it.

Having cats is an exercise in patience. But it’s also a wonderful example of unconditional love. No matter how many sweaters they destroy, I still want to scoop them up the moment I walk in the door after a long day. Even though they randomly decide they suddenly hate the particular kind of food I’ve just stocked up on, I still forgive them the moment they curl up next to me and start purring. I can’t help myself.

They’re complete jerks. And I couldn’t love them more for it.  

—Beth Adams

Read more about Beth's cats, Jezebel and Pants!

Are your cats little troublemakers, but you love them anyway? We'd love to know! Email us at lovedemcats@guideposts.org.

I’ll never forget the day I came face-to-face with a Tiger. Well…sort of. 

The first time I walked into my boyfriend Chip’s house I ran straight to his Chihuahua mix, Hunter, and rubbed his belly. After all, I was a dog person. When I was young we had a German Shepherd and a miniature poodle, and now there’s my Pit Bull, Sonny (how’s that for variety?). 

My friends, even our neighbors, had dogs too. I thought cats were cute, but I had no idea what to make of them.

Then, bam! A paw landed on top of my foot. A very large paw. Chip had told me he had a cat, but this one was huge. And it was growling!

“Is he okay?” I asked.

“Tiger’s purring. He likes you. Go on and pet him,” Chip urged. (Yes, I mistook purring for growling; now you can tell I’d really never been around cats.) Tiger sidled up beside me, his tail swooshing wildly. Not wanting to be rude, I gently stroked his chin. Tiger’s emerald eyes closed ever so slightly, as if to say, ahhh. And, me? I was done for.     

Today, this cat convert loves nothing more than to watch Tiger and Hunter play. Fight like cats and dogs they don’t, but Tiger’s picked up a few quirks palling around with a pooch.

1. If you want to know where the cat is, take the dog for a walk.
Tiger can, and does, hide everywhere! But the moment we take Hunter for a walk, Tiger bounces from wherever he is, straight to the front door where he eagerly waits for his buddy to return. When Hunter walks back inside, Tiger plays it off coolly—like, Noooo, I wasn’t waiting for you. I was just, uhh, checking the weather.

2. The name’s Tiger, aka Mr. Clean.
Poor Hunter. He can’t be within a few inches of Tiger without getting a facial. Tiger licks his ears, whiskers and face incessantly…until Hunter gives him the side-eye.

3. Catnip? It’s overrated.
Scratch pads, crinkle tunnels, plush mice. You name it, Tiger has it. Every. Single. Thing. sits in an untouched pile. His toy of choice? Hunter’s rawhide bones.  He pounces and swats them around the room like it’s his job.

4. He’s a beggar.
Whenever we’re cooking, Tiger isn’t far away. “Talk to me,” Chip says. On cue, Tiger rises up on his hind legs and paws at the air, like a dog begging for table scraps. (As you can see Tiger is not exactly starving.) 

                                            —Nicole Lorimer, guest blogger

Do you have a cat and dog at home who get along? We'd love to hear about them! Leave your comment below or email us at lovedemcats@guideposts.org.

My parents have changed.

For one thing, in December they became grandparents—my nephew Caleb was born December 1.

In November, they became cat owners, having adopted my brother's two cats, Mason and Madison, right before the baby came.

Both baby and kitties are spoiled, the way only grandparents can spoil.

I noticed the difference in my parents as soon as I came to visit. Toy mice dotted the living room, and a collapsible cat cube sat in front of the fireplace. Madison lounged on the dining room table, and Mason kept leaping onto the kitchen counter to lounge in the window behind the sink (when he wasn't meowing for the faucet to get turned on).

Now, when I was growing up, Mom hated cats. Cats, we believed, would climb on top of your refrigerator and ambush your head, or kill things and bring them to you, or get into fights with other cats and come home with their ears torn off. Plus, they “went” in the house, and your house would smell like the litterbox all the time no matter how clean you thought you were keeping it. Nope, no cats for us.

So it was with great amusement that I observed my folks' transformation into cat people. Cats on the table? “Well, we usually don't eat there, anyway.” And as for the litterbox issue?

“It cleans itself,” Dad explained.

When the cat enters this litterbox, a motion detector sets off a timer that counts down for 15 minutes. Then a compartment slides open, a metal rake comes out and slides through the litter, and the rake sweeps the clumps into a sealed compartment lined with a special plastic bag. The human empties the compartment when it gets full, instead of cleaning the litter via the often-disgusting “scoop and sift” method, and the cat enjoys the luxury of freshly-cleaned litter every time it enters the box.

“You guys are spoiled,” I informed Mason, as he climbed on the computer desk and sat on the keyboard while I was checking email.

Not quite as spoiled as little Caleb, of course. But close.

                                                                            —Allison Ruffing

How has having a cat changed you? Leave your comment below! Email us at lovedemcats@guideposts.org.

On New Year's Eve, exactly 6 years ago, Sal and Dean came into my husband's life. Exactly 6 years ago a few days later, I came into his life as well.

So this week has been a week of anniversaries in our household, and many prayers of thanks for the forces that have brought us all together. And to celebrate, we all watched football on New Year's Day!

It all started 6 years ago. Sal and Dean were about 8 weeks old when my husband, Rick, adopted them, and brought them home. It was New Year's Eve, and he had chosen to spend a quiet evening in playing with his new kittens instead of going out with friends.

The next morning he settled in on the couch with both kittens draped across his lap, and turned on the TV to watch the University of Florida Gators play in an NCAA bowl game. Hours later, not one of them had even moved an inch.

Rick is a huge Gators fan, and is known to get very heated (and shout with excitement) when he watches their games. The fact that these fragile little kittens were not frightened by this was a sure sign that they'd found the right forever home!

And so it has been for six years now. When we watch football games, both my husband and I get excited and jump around and shout. Sal and Dean sit calmly beside us, watching the action unfold.

What's more amazing, the two cats are both fairly skittish otherwise! A sneeze from one of us, and they're off running. If one of us drops something, they're off running.

But if Tim Tebow scores a touchdown or the Northwestern Wildcats' defense (my team) recovers a fumble, and we erupt in cheers loud enough for the neighbors to hear, my own (wild)cats remain perfectly still, engrossed in the gridiron drama.   

Photo: Sal, watching football 

                                                  —Jessica Bloustein

Do your cats like to watch sports on TV? We want to know if there are some fellow kitty football fans out there! Email us at lovedemcats@guideposts.org.

My all-time favorite Christmas movie is White Christmas with Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney, Danny Kaye and Vera-Ellen.

When I saw that it was on television last Sunday night, I tuned in and settled back to watch it for the umpteenth time. It’s one of my Christmas rituals.

It was getting close to an emotional scene where soldiers from a World War II Army division surprise their former commanding officer by showing up on Christmas Eve. They sing this wonderful song. “We’ll follow the old man wherever he wants to go, Long as he wants to go…Because we love him, we love him, especially when he keeps us on the ball.” 

Hearing grown men unabashedly sing out their affection for their leader never fails to reduce me to a mound of mush. That, plus the ending when they open the barn doors (if you haven’t seen it, I won’t give the ending away), just hits my water works button, no matter how many times I’ve seen the movie.

Well, at some point during the film, Lubya, who had been snoozing on the arm of the couch for most of the night, moved directly behind me on the back of the couch—a spot I’ve never seen him occupy before. I don’t know when he moved there, but I noticed him there around the time the men were singing about the “old man.” Then at some point, I swear, he slid one of his paws onto my shoulder. Instinctively, he reached out to me.

I knew he was a compassionate cat because of the way he reacts when Mimi is distressed. But I didn’t realize the extent of his empathy and sensitivity until last night!

What a lovely Christmas present: a little cat comfort—and joy.

                                                                        —Anne Simpkinson

Does your cat love to play in the snow? We want to hear about it! Email us at lovedemcats@guideposts.org.

I hate winter.

Winter means getting up earlier to scrape ice off your car, darkness falling at 4:30 p.m., and wet boots tracking snow and salt across floors and carpets. Not to mention those heating bills when temps plunge below zero!

This week, when we woke up to a world of white, my cat Harley stood at the window, fascinated by all that snow. I opened the door so he could go out, but he just let out a little whine and backed off.

Now, Harley is used to spending most of his daylight hours outside. So that snowy morning it didn't take long for cabin fever to strike. By 10 a.m. he'd already squabbled with Pearl and Catillac, and he was sitting on the windowsill, chattering like crazy at the birds on the feeder.

I opened the door again. He cautiously put one paw onto the white stuff, then another. Snowflakes fell on his black coat, and he sniffed the air. Then—zoom!—he was off, running at top speed through the backyard.

He raced around the frozen pond, sped in a circle around his favorite tree, then ran and frolicked in the snow, leaving the yard criss-crossed with tiny pawprints. A half-hour later he appeared at the window, covered in snowflakes, and I let him in to warm up.

“That was fun once you gave it a try, huh?” I said as I dried his fur and feet with a towel. Hmmmm. I wonder if I'd enjoy winter more if I let go of this negativity....

“Harley, you've inspired me,” I told him.

I bundled up and went for a walk and took photos to email my family in Florida, where “cold” means “in the 50s.” Then I relaxed on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate, watching the flakes drift down and the birds hopping from branch to branch, their colors brilliant against the background of white. Beautiful.

Now, I'll probably never love winter. But from now on, I'm going to try harder to find things to like about it. #1: Harley with snowflakes caught in his whiskers....

Watch this short video of Harley in the snow!

—Allison Ruffing

Does your cat love to play in the snow? We want to hear about it! Email us at lovedemcats@guideposts.org.

Cats are unpredictable. You’d think that Lubya, who will do anything to be petted, belly-rubbed and massaged would be a lap cat. Not so.

He will curl up near me, occasionally put a paw on my leg and his head in his paw. He will sidle up to me and plant himself length-wise against my side. But he will never rest in my lap.

Mimi, on the other hand, my sweet but hyper-alert female is turning into the sweetest dearest lap cat you ever want to pet. For a long while now, she will lay across my legs if I’m sitting on the couch with my legs up. And I’ve written about how she likes her rump rubbed at breakfast. But now, she’s gotten into two habits that I am loathe to break. 

First, instead of just lying across my legs, she will, on occasion, turn around and plop herself on my lap, head on my chest. Who can resist holding her close and stroking her? Not me!

Her second new behavior occurs when I’m working on the computer. She’ll jump on my lap and find a way to settle in. With her small body so completely relaxed, I’m compelled to pull her close and rub and pet her at which point she begins the most delicate purring—her way of re-inforcing my behavior!

So there you have it. Mr. Pet Me! just likes to get close whereas Ms. Skittish, when the conditions are right, seeks the intimacy of my lap.

Go figure!

                                                                            —Anne Simpkinson

P.S. I can't get a shot of myself with my cats, but I can catch them relaxing together!

We want to hear all about your cats! Email us at lovedemcats@guideposts.org