On Cats in Space
The impetus for this post was a panel at this year’s Chicon/Worldcon. The focus of that panel was a bit broader, looking at cats across sci-fi and fantasy—not anthropomorphized, humanoid felines, which are their own unique subset of fictional races, and not other felines like lions and panthers, but Standard Issue Cats in human-dominated worlds.
There were a lot of great questions raised at that panel, like how storytellers use cats in their narratives, the difference between an animal and human character, and the broader role of pets and animals in general in human-centric sci-fi worlds. So I decided to take a closer look at some of my favorite space cats to see how their creators answered those questions.
Spot & Grudge
From: Star Trek
Function: Pets
The Star Trek universe has two recurring cat characters: Data’s pet Spot from The Next Generation and Booker’s pet Grudge in Discovery. Spot and Grudge’s owners are basically opposites: Data is an android officer in Starfleet; Booker is an empath and works on his own, sometimes outside the law. Yet their relationships with their pets, and the function of that relationship in the narrative, is remarkably similar.
For one thing, both Data and Booker are devoted to their furbabies. Their respective devotion to their feline companions adds depth and complexity to their characters. In Data’s case, it’s one of the steps on his ongoing quest to become more human. Data’s concern and affection for Spot shows that, emotion chip or no, he is very human in his ability to form bonds with living creatures. Even more telling is Spot’s acceptance of Data, who is one of very few people she’ll tolerate; Riker’s attempt to care for her landed him in sick bay, and Geordi and Worf don’t fare much better. Spot is much friendlier with the characters well-established as compassionate caretakers, namely Dr. Crusher and Deanna Troi, so it’s not just that she hates all humans. Spot’s seal of approval is a sign Data matches their empathy, marking him as far more human than he gives himself credit for.
Grudge, meanwhile, is a portal into Booker’s softer side. Book is a loner with trust issues and a tendency for skirting the rules, and though his intentions are usually noble, that’s not always obvious on the surface. At least, until he’s talking about Grudge. Anyone who insults her is quickly reminded that she is, in fact, a Queen, and he goes to great lengths to ensure she’s safe even if he’s putting his own life in danger. This gives Grudge another function that Spot doesn’t share, at times serving almost as Booker’s familiar. He leaves her behind if he’s about to do something particularly daft, a sign for both the Discovery crewmembers and the viewer that he’s in danger. The best example of this is when he programmed his ship to take Grudge to Discovery (3.06, “Scavengers”), prompting Burnham to lead a rescue mission after him.
Spot and Grudge share another purpose on their respective starships: they’re good for a laugh. This could be fun side gags like Worf’s apparent cat allergy or a dose of levity in an otherwise intense moment, like when Data finds Spot alive in Enterprise-D wreckage.
Jonesy
From: Alien
Function: Mouser
Jonesy was ostensibly onboard the Nostromo for rodent control, but he was basically the ship pet. He’s also the only other lifeform to survive the Xenomorph’s attack, along with Ripley, going with her into cryostasis and then to her apartment after they’re picked up 57 years later.
Jonesy’s plot function in the movie is something cats do well: causing trouble. He sets off the motion tracker, making the crew think he’s the alien. When Brett goes to catch him, Jonesy inadvertently leads him to his death, distracting him while the Xenomorph attacks. He has another close call with the Xenomorph later, but the alien apparently feels he’s not worth the trouble and leaves him be.
Jonesy isn’t just a convenient way to separate the crew members, though. He has an emotional role in the story, too. Ripley might have been the only human survivor from the Nostromo, but she was never really alone. Jonesy was a life she could save, even after everything else had gone to shit, giving her that extra drive she might not have had if she were only saving herself, and the comfort of knowing there was at least one other friendly living thing around. In a sense, Jonesy is a personification of hope. Yes, the Xenomorph is big and scary, but if this little furry thing can survive her, maybe humanity has a chance. Then, of course, there’s what Jonesy’s survival tells us about Ripley—there’s a whole literary device called “save the cat” for a reason.
The Psychic Cats
From: Chilling Effect
Function: Cargo
The main characters of Chilling Effect are the captain and crew of La Sirena Negra, a smuggling ship operating in a cosmopolitan universe populated by a wide variety of unique alien lifeforms. When the book opens, they’re about to deliver the 20 psychic cats—until the buyer falls through and they’re left searching for a new buyer, something they make half-hearted attempts at throughout the book.
A more ruthless, profit-driven captain would cut their losses and sell to the highest bidder, no matter what they planned to do with the cats once they get them, but Captain Innocente has too much of a conscience for that. Her refusal to sell the cats to a buyer that will hurt or kill them shows the reader that Captain Innocente has a better heart than she often gives herself credit for in the narration.
Plot-wise, the cats initially serve a similar function to Jonesy: they cause trouble, and in this case hilarity often ensues. Aside from the normal cat antics, their psychic powers give them extra ways to be a nuisance, like compelling crew members to open their cages. Eventually, though Captain Innocente’s kindness to her feline passengers is repaid and the cats prove themselves valuable members of her crew. What’s particularly fun about this turnaround is that the cats have, up to that point, been mostly a background annoyance, so when they become relevant to the broader plot it’s a delightful surprise.
Professor Katz (and the rest of his species)
From: Futurama (6.08 “That Darn Katz!”)
Function: Pets/hidden supervillains
Who built the pyramids? In the Futurama universe the answer is cats, who are actually aliens who landed in Egypt in 3,500BC, with the goal of stealing the Earth’s rotational energy and sending that energy back to restart their home planet, Thubian-9.
Pretty much everything in Futurama is a comedic device, so that’s a given. They’re also a kind of foil to the Nibblonians, represented mostly through Leela’s pet Nibbler, who “broke up” with her as a pet early in the episode. Like the cats, the Nibblonians have used their cuteness to hide in plain sight and obscure their true intelligence, but the Nibblonians do so to protect the universe from the Brain Spawn, not to destroy the world for their own gains.
Humanity defeats the cats in a similar way they outsmart the Brain Spawn, too: the Planet Express crew has a secret weapon who’s immune to the cats’ charms. In this case it’s Amy, whose cat allergy prevents the cats’ hypnosis, allowing her to uncover and foil their secret plan just in time.
Like most things in Futurama, the cats are a walking pop culture reference. Along with the ancient Egypt and ancient alien play mentioned above, they’re a play off the idea of supervillains always stroking cats, and their voices are as reminiscent of a Bond villain as their convoluted and ultimately ill-fated plot.
But Why Cats, Though?
Animals in general are a good device. A pet of any species adds a bit of extra life, especially to settings can otherwise feel sterile or barren, like a starship. A cat specifically brings a few more things to the table, though, that makes them a particularly good choice for space-faring sci-fi:
They’re a practical choice on a spaceship. Cats are naturally clean and self-sufficient, and they don’t need walks outside, elaborate enclosures, or a ton of space. They also justify their presence on a working ship more than the average pet thanks to their pest control skills, a role cats have served on ships for centuries that can translate just as well to spacefaring vehicles.
They’re familiar yet unpredictable. You can pretty much count on every reader at least knowing what a cat is. At the same time, though, even people who have lived with cats their entire lives will admit they don’t completely understand why their pets do the things they do. Cats are inherently more mysterious and aloof than dogs but are just as widespread and can be equally loyal and affectionate. This makes them a versatile animal character to employ in a wide range of settings.
They have agency. Non-speaking animals in fiction are often defined in relation to their human owner or companion, even if they have their own personalities or are powerful creatures in their own right—consider the dragons in Game of Thrones, Shadowfax in Lord of the Rings, or even Abu in Aladdin. The feline reputation for fierce independence gives them more freedom to have their own arc and agency. Cats aren’t expected to obey commands. Even when they do it kinda feels like their decision, and it doesn’t feel out of character if they do something else, instead. This makes them useful for both plot movement and character development.
Science fiction gives writers a lot of options for expanding their cast of characters beyond humanity, but while alien races are fun to create, there’s also potential for other Earth creatures in these landscapes. I’m sure there are tons of other examples of cats in space, but the four examples above can hopefully give you some ideas of ways cats can add a bit of fun and chaos to your sci-fi worlds.
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