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STO · ∩

The cat is an accidental stoic, and it has something to teach the founder

A cat has never read Epictetus and embodies him better than most people who have. It is self-possessed, indifferent to your approval, fully present when it acts and fully at rest when it does not. For a founder wired to perform, to seek approval, and to never stop moving, the cat is not a meme. It is a temperament worth borrowing — with one honest caveat about why you cannot become one.

Virtue it never studied

Watch a cat and you see a set of dispositions the Stoics and Taoists spent lifetimes trying to cultivate deliberately. It does not perform for approval — the cat that ignores you is not being coy; it genuinely does not need your opinion, which is exactly the freedom Epictetus was pointing at when he said the mark of progress is to expect nothing from external validation. It acts from its own nature rather than from expectation, which is close to the Taoist wu wei: effortless action, doing the thing that is in you to do without strain or performance. And it rests completely, hunts completely, and ignores everything in between — a presence most humans cannot manage for five minutes.

John Gray built a whole book on this in Feline Philosophy: cats are content in a way humans are not, precisely because they do not construct a self to defend, do not narrate their lives, and do not seek meaning outside living. The dog, by contrast, is the status-anxious one — eager to please, reading your mood, desperate for approval. Most founders, if they are honest, are dogs.

The temperament worth borrowing

The high-initiating, approval-seeking, always-shipping founder — the one who checks the metrics like a slot machine and performs for the feed — is running the opposite of the cat's operating system, and paying for it in equanimity. The borrowable moves are specific: stop performing for approval you do not need, rest without guilt when the work is done, act from your own judgment rather than the audience's expectation, and — the most feline discipline of all — do not chase. The cat that ignores you is the one you want; the deal, the hire, and the reader you pursue too hard are the ones you repel. Presence over hustle is not a slogan here. It is watching an animal that has never hustled a day in its life and getting exactly what it wants.

When I play with my cat, who knows whether she is not amusing herself with me more than I with her?Michel de Montaigne

A worked temperament: the deal you stop chasing

Borrow the cat for a concrete situation, because the composure only matters where it changes a move. A promising partnership is drifting. The dog in you wants to chase — the third follow-up, the slightly-too-eager email, the discount to keep them interested — and every one of those moves quietly lowers your status and confirms to the other side that they can wait, because your need is now visible. The cat does the opposite by doing nothing: it states its terms once, plainly, and then genuinely does not need the answer, and that absence of need is the most attractive signal in the exchange. The deal you stop chasing is frequently the deal that turns around, not as a manipulation tactic but because you have stopped supplying evidence that you can be waited out.

The same posture applies to the feed. Checking the metrics like a slot machine, refreshing to see if the post landed, performing for an audience whose approval you do not actually respect — this is the dog reading the room, desperate to please, and it costs you exactly the equanimity the cat has for free. The borrowable move is to act from your own judgment of whether the work is good, rest without guilt when it is done, and let the reaction be the reaction. You do the thing that is in you to do, and you decline to perform it for applause you were never going to value anyway.

None of this is coldness; it is the specific freedom that comes from not needing a particular external result. The cat is not indifferent to good outcomes — it very much wants the warm spot and the food — it is indifferent to your opinion about whether it should have them, and that is the distinction worth stealing. Want the deal, want the work to land, and refuse to chase either in a way that hands your leverage to whoever you are chasing.

Why you should not actually become a cat

This is the fun half, so here is the honest correction. Three of them.

One: it is a projection. The cat is not wise; it is an animal following instinct, and we are pattern-matching virtue onto indifference because it flatters us. "The stoic cat" is a story we tell, and dressing your own preferences up as feline wisdom is charming, not rigorous. The cat is not choosing non-attachment; it simply has no attachment to overcome.

Two: the indifference that suits a cat ruins a human. A cat can afford to need no one because it builds nothing with anyone. A founder is embedded in a team, a market, and a family, and the genuinely cat-like founder — uncooperative, indifferent to others, contemptuous of approval as feedback — fails, because companies are built by the cooperative, approval-reading, dog-like willingness to serve other people. The dog's anxiety is also the dog's superpower.

Three: cat-superiority is itself a status game. The whole "cat people are the real intellectuals" posture is, ironically, a bid for status — the exact game the cat is supposedly above. Borrow the composure; do not adopt the smugness that usually comes packaged with it.

So take the cat's composure into the parts of your life that are eating you alive with performance — and keep the dog's warmth for the parts that are actually built with other people. Be a cat about approval. Stay a dog about love.

Sources

  1. primaryJohn Gray, Feline Philosophy: Cats and the Meaning of Life (2020).
  2. primaryEpictetus, Enchiridion — freedom from the need for external validation.
  3. primaryMichel de Montaigne, "Apology for Raymond Sebond," Essays (1580).
  4. secondaryLaozi, Tao Te Ching — wu wei, effortless action.