I chuckled when I saw the space-suited cat—for so I thought of it. It was cat-size, in a little form-fitting spacesuit, and it scampered after its master on four legs, space-suited tail wagging behind. It was sort of a cute little thing, I thought; no wonder its master didn't care to leave it behind.
"Everything all set?" I asked.
"Transfer is completed," said the captain of the other ship. He closed his lock, and pulled away from us.
"Close the lock!" I ordered.
I gestured to a crewman standing by. "Show the Ambassador to his room," I said.
When the Ambassador and his pet were in their special fluorinated stateroom I called them on the special television hookup I had set up between them.
They had taken their spacesuits off and were lying sprawled out in their green murky atmosphere, the Ambassador in his bunk and the pet in his. I could hardly see into the room over my circuit but I could see that the Ambassador was very human and that the pet was pretty much like a cat, except that he had sharp-clawed fingers instead of the soft little pads a cat has.