My Accountability Coach Has a Tooth Gap
How a champagne Burmese succeeded where habit books, apps, and human beings failed
Hugo, my little champagne Burmese, is the best accountability partner I’ve ever had. First, let me tell you how that came about.
An ex-boyfriend mocked me for my inability to do even a single chin-up. That was many, many years ago. Yes, I can be surprisingly good at holding a grudge. Reminds me of a certain cat I know, whose name I’m sure does not rhyme with Incredula. Just saying.
My immediate reaction was to prove him wrong. The only thing is, I didn’t immediately act on my impulse. Let’s just say it took me many, many years and leave it at that. Anyway, I decided that the best way to approach this was to train myself to do dead hangs. I put up a workout bar in the catio right up against a cat tree. It may be the simplest exercise because all you do is dangle, but I could only do it for 10 seconds at most. And before you ridicule me, let me assure you that while my arms may be flaccid, I have very strong legs and can deliver pretty mean kicks.
My next challenge was my inconsistency. I would start a new habit on any day ending in “y,” and fail at the follow-through. I’d do it for one day, two days, a fortnight, a month—and suddenly the habit had become an archaeological site.
There’s a reason why an entire economy has been built on helping individuals cultivate good habits. If reading books doesn’t cut it (hello, Atomic Habits), there are any number of coaches who purport to help. The problem is the cost. Once, when I found an affordable one, I quickly discovered why. I had to keep emailing him to ask him if he would be emailing me to remind me to keep up with my commitment. The buddy system with friends didn’t work much better. Then there are apps that fine you if you don’t meet your commitment: I could easily see our savings draining away.
I couldn’t commit to commit. So I just continued in my haphazard way until one day, Hugo happened to jump up on the cat tree that stands right next to the bar. I hung on for my maximum 10 seconds, then dropped down to stroke him. His face just inches from mine, he gave me a soulful look, showing off his incredibly adorable tooth gap. “Good Hugo,” I exclaimed. “Best Hugo ever.”
His entire face and body radiated joy.
For the first time, the reward for following through wasn’t abstract self-improvement. It was Hugo’s joy.
The next day I returned to the bar, and Hugo returned to the cat tree. And the next day and the next day. It occurred to me that this was now a “thing.” He had signed up as my accountability buddy! John agreed with me.
Hugo has continued this tradition for some five months now. Thanks to him, I now work out daily without missing a single day. Apparently, my nervous system responds better to a delighted Burmese than to threats, fines, and habit literature.
An out-of-town friend visiting me wanted to try out the dead hang to see if Hugo would join her. And he did—he jumped up next to her on cue, though he did appear slightly confused.
I don’t claim that the ritual goes without a hitch. Sometimes Hugo gets distracted and heads to the kitchen instead of the cat tree. Some nights Callie—our faux Maine Coon floof—blocks his path, and Hugo loses his way. I call out for him from the bar. “Focus, Hugo.”
“Hugo, go on over there,” my husband chimes in. “The show must go on, you know that.” After some encouragement, Hugo jumps up on the cat tree. Incredibly—because her name does rhyme with Incredula—our all-white Turkish Angora, Nebula, has appointed herself the tax master. She snarls at Callie and occasionally smacks him until he moves out of Hugo’s path, allowing the sacred procession to continue.
Hugo is more consistent than any human (with a little encouragement), doesn’t require a contract, and is cuter than any app. Best of all, he doesn’t bill me.
I have not yet achieved the chin-up, though I can now do a dead hang for an entire minute. Somewhere, my ex is wandering the earth, blissfully unaware that a champagne Burmese with a tooth gap was more motivating than mockery.
Spite may have started the habit, but only Hugo could sustain it.
