"I'm here live. I'm not a cat."
Mere mortals are not worthy of the gift the Internet Gods bestowed upon us this week: A Zoom video trial, wherein a lawyer was unable to turn off the filter that transformed him into a talking cat. If you happen to live in a giant mushroom nestled in a shady glen where fluttering fairy wings block out internet connection and have yet to witness this magic for yourself, you can see it here.
There is just so much to love about the video—the absurdity, the sweetness, that feeling of “What the Maury Povich is happening right now?!” that we can all resonate with, the fact that Lawyer-as-Cat has a Southern drawl. The glory of it is near blinding. Through the brilliance, though, there’s one part that stands out.
It’s the moment when Mr. Cat J.D. said the following:
I’M PREPARED TO GO FORWARD.
In the midst of becoming the most meme-able feline on the planet—no easy task in a world that has nearly as many cat memes as Leonardo-DiCaprio-holding-various-beverages memes—this lawyer did something I wish every bold introvert would do more of.
He refused to let his circumstances deter his belief in himself.
My friend, that is what we in the biz call a big fucking deal. Kicking imposter syndrome in the cajones by resting into the knowledge that you’re a total badass is my kind of aspiration.
It’s why this tenacious Texas feline has purrrfect timing. The video arrived the week leading up to my favorite day of the year: Valentine’s Day. (Yes, you read that right.)
My snarky, irreverent ass looooooooooves Valentine’s Day, but not for the reasons you might think. It not the roses and chocolates (though I enjoy both). Not the memory of handing a heart-shaped paper doily to a childhood crush and then running away and never speaking to them again (I enjoy that less). It’s definitely not the sappy, obligatory public proclamations of affection that dominate my social media feeds for the day (If I were juuuuust a scooooooch more cynical, I’d invent a drinking game to make this bit more entertaining).
One could argue that the day’s meaning is somewhat synthetic and saccharine—not to mention lucrative for the companies seeking to capitalize on puppy love. But I don’t care.
I LOVE IT BECAUSE OF THE MEANING I’VE GIVEN IT.
I’ve created a Frankenstein’s monster of meaning out of February 14th—cobbling together disparate pieces into something that’s greater than the sum of its parts. (It also does a killer rendition of Puttin’ On the Ritz.)
I’ve made it into a day where I am shameless about celebrating my love for the most important person in my life—myself. More specifically, I turned it into an opportunity to recognize all the times I’ve been willing to do hard things. Whether those things ultimately failed or succeeded doesn’t matter. On Valentine’s, all that matters is that I had enough faith in myself to go forward.
As a recovering perfectionist, that faith is almost always hard-won. My native impulse is always to gather more data before I act, so I can execute said action perfectly. It’s based on the flawed concept that, if knowledge is power, then more knowledge is sure to make me invulnerable. Since the only thing that can scare the piss out of me faster than vulnerability is an actual shark, that idea is tantalizing.
If you’re wondering, yes, this is the nauseating part where I wax poetic about how living a sterile life—free of failure only because it’s free from trying—is not all that shiny. Had I stuck to that path, I may have been less banged up from avoiding time in the arena, but I would’ve been tattooed with the tarnish and rust of wasted talent instead.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a battle won. I tango with perfectionism on the daily. It’s an occupational hazard of being an idealist. But it’s a battle worth fighting.
So why Valentine’s Day? Because it’s an anniversary. Two of the hardest things I’ve ever decided to go forward with happened on V-Day.
One involved a shaky hand wrapped around a boarding pass, FEBRUARY 14 printed across the top. Weak legs stepping onto the plane headed to a new home—an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean that I’d never seen. The other came with a deep breath and an alert across my computer screen: Your submission has been received. I’d just submitted the Articles of Incorporation for a business, this business.
In the years since then, Valentine’s has evolved into a day when I set down doubt and ask, “What kind of trouble can we get into next, Schenk?”
Like many introverts, my brain is hardwired to find meaning in things. When it can’t find it, it creates it. Which brings us back to Lawyer Cat. Whether it’s Valentine’s Day, National Cat Lawyer Appreciation Day (what petition do I need to sign to make this a thing?), or just Friday, the meaning is what you make it.
Señor Gato, Esq. could have easily logged off, sent an apologetic email, and rejoined the call after his presumably frantic assistant found the button to turn off the filter. But he didn’t. He was prepared to enter the arena as a cat.
LAWYER CAT REFUSING TO BE DETERRED IS A WHOLE MOOD. AND IT’S EXACTLY THE ONE I WANT TO BE IN THIS VALENTINE’S DAY.
I’d like to invite you to join my V-Day tradition. Send me an email. Brag about yourself. Celebrate your willingness to do hard things. I’m serious, I want you to be starstruck and drooling over your own damned glory. Then, think about the next mountain you’re going to climb, channel your inner Lawyer Cat, and say the following: I’m prepared to go forward.