Designing Urban Greenspaces for Our Feline Overlords
If you’ve ever watched a cat slink through a hedge, sunbathe on a brick wall, or perch like a tiny lion on the roof of a garden shed, you’ve seen firsthand that cities aren’t just for people. They belong to cats too. As a landscape architect who has spent years thinking about how to make urban spaces more livable—for humans, yes, but also for wildlife—I’ve come to believe we need to consider a long-overlooked population in our design decisions: our feline friends.
I’ve always had a soft spot for cats, particularly the ones that roam our neighborhoods like they own the place. (Because, let’s be honest, they kind of do.) But it wasn’t until I started observing them more closely—watching how they use alleys, trees, fences, and park edges—that I realized just how much potential there is in designing green spaces with them in mind. A truly livable city, I now think, is one where even the neighborhood cat can thrive.
Why Cats Deserve a Seat at the Planning Table
Let’s clear something up: I’m not saying we should turn every park into a giant litter box. But when we design urban greenspaces, we’re usually focused on human comfort, safety, and aesthetics. Then maybe we think about dogs, if we’re feeling generous. But cats? They’re the ultimate urban survivors—independent, adaptable, and weirdly wise about the city’s hidden flows. Yet they rarely make it into our design conversations.
Urban cats—especially outdoor or community cats—benefit from green corridors, low shrubs for cover, water sources, and places to perch. These same features are also good for birds, pollinators, small mammals, and humans. That overlap is important. Creating spaces that serve multiple species makes our cities more vibrant and more resilient.
In other words, when you build for cats, you end up building better for everyone.
Microhabitats and Cat Trails
Take a moment to consider the hidden pathways that cats carve through a city. They jump fences, squeeze through holes in hedges, travel along rooftops, and tiptoe across garden walls. They’re excellent readers of space. I’ve started calling these feline routes “cat trails”—invisible highways that connect one backyard to another, one fire escape to the next.
If we pay attention to these movements, we can use them as inspiration for designing better greenspaces. Think pocket parks that connect like stepping stones. Think low perches integrated into seating walls, or tucked-away shelters that double as aesthetic features. Add some vertical interest—climbing plants on trellises, trees with branching structure, or architectural nooks—and suddenly you’ve created a cat-friendly ecosystem.
We don’t need to reinvent the city. We just need to notice what’s already working.
Designing for Coexistence, Not Conflict
Of course, some people get nervous when you start talking about cats and green design. “What about the birds?” is the first question I hear. It’s a valid concern. Outdoor cats can be a threat to wildlife, especially in areas where songbird populations are already declining.
But instead of ignoring the issue or banning outdoor cats outright (which isn’t realistic in most places), we can design with balance in mind. We can build bird-friendly habitats that include protected nesting areas and use planting strategies that give both birds and cats space to exist. We can provide enrichment zones for cats—like dedicated cat gardens or hidden napping spots—so they’re less likely to hunt. And we can work with local TNR (trap-neuter-return) programs to stabilize populations.
It’s not about choosing sides. It’s about thoughtful coexistence. That’s the heart of ecological urban design anyway: recognizing that cities are shared spaces.
A New Kind of Urban Wildlife
For a long time, landscape architects have focused on native species, pollinator corridors, and habitat restoration. All important stuff. But we shouldn’t forget that domesticated animals—especially free-roaming cats—are part of the city’s fabric too. They live in the margins, in abandoned lots and behind dumpsters, in community gardens and alleyways. And they matter, both ecologically and culturally.
Designing for cats is a kind of invitation. It’s a way of saying: we see you, we understand that you move through this space, and we want to make it safer, softer, and more connected. In many ways, it’s also a return to a more intuitive kind of design—one that’s based on observation, curiosity, and care.
Plus, it’s just kind of delightful. Who wouldn’t want to stumble upon a sunny plaza bench that’s been subtly sculpted to double as a lounging spot for the local tabby?
The Feline Future of Urban Design
I’m not suggesting every city planner start wearing cat ears (though I wouldn’t be mad about it). But I am suggesting that we take a more playful, more inclusive approach to how we think about urban life. Cats remind us to look at cities not just as networks of roads and buildings, but as layered, living environments—full of surprise, shadow, and soft places to curl up in the sun.
Designing for our “feline overlords” might sound like a joke. But it’s really a challenge to pay attention. To the edges of things. To the creatures who live quietly among us. To the microhabitats beneath the shrubs and the secret trails along the fences.
If we do that—if we listen and observe and maybe even leave a little space open for whiskers and paws—we just might find ourselves in a better city. One that works for humans, birds, bees, and yes… cats too.