I drew this toy over several days, and every single time I picked up my pencils, I would give a little chuckle, delighted that this funny thing exists at all. I like how ridiculous it is, with its lack of legs, its big flat, floppy ears, and its permanently cheerful expression. He looks, as Judith Kerr wrote about Mog the Forgetful Cat, “nice but not very clever”, and perhaps that is exactly what makes him lovable.

Like Rita Flower’s House, this Space Dog is at the V&A Museum of Childhood, and it is also not on display. It was acquired for an exhibition held there in 2007, entitled Space Age: Exploration, Design and Popular Culture, and its information page tells us it was bought at Christie’s as part of a collection of robots and space toys owned by a collector based in Milan, called Paul Lips – see all items of his collection here.

The Cold War / Space Age period produced a varied range of toys and accessories for children – astronauts (see this lovely bedspread from 1950-55, from The Strong National Museum of Play), rockets (see this board game from 1959, also at The Strong), spaceships, and most spectacularly, for around 50 dollars (roughly the current day equivalent of 500 dollars), doting parents could get an ‘Atomic Energy Lab’ for their kids, which is as eye-opening as it sounds.

On the opposite end of the spectrum to the Energy Lab, this particular toy was manufactured by a Japanese company called KO Yoshiya, also known as Kobe Yoko Ltd, one of Japan’s leading toy manufacturers in the 1950s-70s. The company became known especially for making knock-off toys of Robby the Robot, a character that first appeared in the 1956 film Forbidden Planet. You can see a clip of the film here (Robby the Robot enters around minute 1.14), to get an idea of the aesthetic that our Space Dog fits into. A recent review of Forbidden Planet lays out why it was the precursor to many sci-fi classics we might know better.

KO Yoshiya also made a Space Elephant and a Space Whale Ship. The brief seems to have been “anything, but make it ‘space’”.

I love that he is a mix of so many concepts – what on earth would a Space Dog be? Is he a companion for robots who live in space? Are we talking about robot-aliens? And do these robot-aliens have doglike pets like us? Do they eat anything?

I also find it curious to try and figure out what it is about him that makes me smile. There is something about the way the eye domes are set, and the mouth is half open, that makes it seem like a very human, dopey expression, despite being made of tin and plastic.

I wonder how he would get on with Rafan the Dog (made around 10 years later) – I look at them both and try to imagine their dynamics. I fancy Rafan might find Space Dog a little annoying, with his perma-smile. Thinking of other options for friends for Space Dog, it suddenly occurs to me that Piglet is an excellent candidate. He’s patient, loyal, and partial to other creatures of very little brain. The thought of Piglet and Space Dog together somehow pleases me immensely.

I imagine Space Dog being entrusted with a mission to explore Sector J53 in search of gamma ray sources. He is given clear instructions, and smiles (or is that just his involuntary expression?), signalling he understands. Beep! Bloop!

He sets out in a good mood – his antenna, and his spirits, are high. He pants in a happy, metallic sort of way. He sees craters (big and small) and rocks (some sharp, some round). He uses his big red nose to sniff at every object he passes. Could it be a gamma ray source? He forgot to ask what they looked like. At long last, he manages to sniff out a wire sausage and returns triumphantly with it in his mouth.

The commander looks at Space Dog. It is the fifth time he has returned with a wire sausage in as many hours. Resigned, he pats him on his head, returns his smile, and gives him a space dog treat.

Drawing based on photographs at the V&A Museum of Childhood website.