The Very Hungry Caterpillar: Is Caterpillar Going Too Far To Protect Its Trademarks?

A thousand years from now, the legends will say that cats invented the internet as part of their plan. Of course, sophisticated scholars will snort, scoff and explain, “Actually, cats only invented the meme.”

If that is funny, it’s mostly because of the ubiquity of cats in 21st century culture. Domesticated felines have been a dominant, widely-recognized force on the internet. My evaluation of the Caterpillar v Cat & Cloud trademark dispute is that it shows how the internet affects trademark strategies (a break from the persistent and well-established analysis of how the internet has affected copyright strategies). I think it also raises an interesting, esoteric question about truncated marks and interpretation of meaning.

I think Caterpillar has two problems: 1) Cat is a really terrible mark in a cat-crazed culture, 2) The truncated mark foists cat troubles on them

Caterpillar’s Trademarks

It’s important to protect trademarks. Trademarks, arguably more so than other IP, have a way of slipping away if you leave them unattended. Copyrights and patents eventually expire, but trademarks last as long as they are used, maintained, and defended. A trademark can become generic, or it can be slowly encroached on in ways that make it harder to defend later. Caterpillar understands the importance of trademark vigilance, and has initiated at least two major trademark proceedings in the last few years, following a significant number of new trademark registrations in 2015. (See CAT Registrations: 4804263-275. All filed in 2014 and issued in 2015.)

PetraCat, An Energy Services Company

In April 2015, Caterpillar and PetraCat argued before the Trademark Trial and Appeals Board (TTAB) on the question of whether PetraCat’s trademark was too close to Caterpillar’s trademark. Caterpillar opposed the registration of PetraCat’s mark out of concern that consumers would be confused by the similarity of the marks. It was an interesting question with reasonable arguments from both sides, but the TTAB ultimately concluded that there was enough similarity to be concerned about consumer confusion.

 

Cat & Cloud, a Coffee Shoppe

In August 2018, Caterpillar filed a cancellation proceeding against Cat & Cloud, a coffee shop based in Santa Cruz, CA. The easy criticism to make is that there is no likelihood of confusion between the goods or services of these companies, but that criticism would be misguided. Trademarks are registered with the USPTO according to categories (called “classes”). Caterpillar is not concerned about the use of trademarks with respect to providing beverages; Caterpillar is concerned about the class of goods that the two companies share: shoes, hats, t-shirts, and other merchandise. This at least establishes some overlap about which there is even fathomable confusion or contention—but is Caterpillar reasonable for pursuing a cancellation proceeding?

 

When discussing any trademark dispute, two subjects are virtually unavoidable: the strength of the marks and the likelihood of confusion.

 

Trademark Strength: Ranking Your Advertising Department’s Imagination

Trademark strength (or distinctiveness) can be thought of as existing along a spectrum that runs from “weak” on one end and “strong” on the other.

Fanciful – When you make up a word that has no other meaning in the language (Xerox, Frisbee)

Arbitrary – When you pick a word that already exists and has a meaning, but has nothing to do with your goods or services (Apple, for a computer company)

Suggestive – When you use words that are related to your goods or services, but don’t quite describe them.

Descriptive – When your trademark more or less describes your goods or services.

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Generic (no protection) – When your trademark is the word everyone uses for your product, and then you lose trademark protection because the language has claimed your trademark as its own. This happens most tragically when a fanciful mark dominates the market too well. Aspirin is the seminal example of a trademark lost to genericism. Xerox corporation fights this risk, as does Google. Marks frequently at risk for this include Band-Aid, Frisbee, Velcro, and anything that everyone you know calls by its trademark name even when referring to the general good or service.

So, how do we rate these marks?

I would argue that Caterpillar’s full mark is descriptive, as it describes a style of tread-and-wheel movement for heavy machinery. (I could also see the argument that Caterpillar is a suggestive mark, because it could be said to suggest to the mind the slow and steady motion of a grub… but I’m not entirely convinced.) On the other hand, the mark “CAT” is… well, truncated. It wouldn’t even be part of Caterpillar’s trademark portfolio if it weren’t for the fact that it’s just the first three letters of the word “caterpillar.”  But “cats,” conceptually, have nothing to do with Caterpillar’s business.

And this is where Caterpillar’s problems start.

Caterpillar is not interested in aligning their branding with felines- Caterpillar is interested in the first three letters of their company name. As a mark, it’s arbitrary (insofar as cats have no conceptual relationship with bulldozers or cranes—though maybe there’s a long-shot argument that cats sometimes dig, and some of Caterpillar’s machines dig). But it’s only an arbitrary mark if Caterpillar can claim the feline meaning of “cat.” The recurring question that determines a lot about Caterpillar’s mark is what the mark actually means.

Here’s the most interesting question in this dispute that I’d like to see the USPTO answer: when a truncated mark happens to spell a new word that has no common meaning with the original mark, does the truncated mark adopt the meaning(s) connected with the truncated mark as though that mark was not a truncated mark? To put that in context: does Caterpillar’s “CAT” mark mean “a feline” or does it mean “short for caterpillar”? If Caterpillar can claim the new meaning, this could elevate their mark strength from “Suggestive/Descriptive” to “Arbitrary.”

On the other hand, “Cat & Cloud” is either arbitrary (because neither cats nor clouds have anything to do with coffee) or suggestive (because cuddly cats and cloudy, overcast whether evoke an image that seems more complete with a warm cup of tea or coffee). If it is suggestive, it is one of the most abstractly suggestive marks I’ve seen. If it is arbitrary, it is one of the more thematically-attuned marks I’ve seen.

 

Likelihood of Confusion: The Quintessence of Trademark Disputes

Almost every trademark dispute comes down to an examination of the likelihood of consumer confusion.

The Likelihood of Confusion Factors Are:

Relatedness of Goods or Services

Similarity of Marks

Similarity In Appearance

Similarity In Sound

Similarity In Meaning

Design Marks

Likely to Deceive

The actual goods and services of these two companies are far apart. However, the subject matter at issue is the merchandise that is ancillary to both businesses. As far as the trademark analysis is concerned, a shoe is a shoe, and a t-shirt is a t-shirt, so the goods are considered related for the purposes of this analysis. I think there is still some argument to be made for Cat & Cloud that the shoes themselves might be very distinguishable (as I understand it, Caterpillar shoes tend to be steel-toed boots designed for rough construction work, while Cat & Cloud makes lighter-wear, everyday walking shoes). A significant distinction between shoes might be enough to argue that there is less likelihood of confusion.

The marks display a weak similarity. Both marks contain the word “cat,” though the shortness and commonplace nature of the word make this barely noteworthy. The inclusion of a substantive element with “Cat” is sufficient to establish the marks as dissimilar. This also addresses questions regarding similarity in sound and in meaning.

Similarity in appearance only seems plausible if the words “& cloud” are significantly smaller than the word “Cat” in the mark of the defendant. Furthermore, to address the design elements, Caterpillar has carefully cultivated a stylized typeface and design that is distinct and recognizable and, to my understanding, this has not been remotely imitated by Cat & Cloud.

To the factor of similarity in meaning: this is sufficiently addressed in my analysis regarding mark similarity, but I think there is an additional point to be made. Given the context of the trademark “CAT” for the company Caterpillar, it is not clear on its face that the plaintiff’s truncated mark is actually intended to mean or signify a member of the taxonomic family felidae. I don’t think this matters much because of the dissimilarity of the marks, but I am not convinced that there is actually any similarity in meaning. I bring this up because I think it points to the central, recurring problem for Caterpillar’s trademark.

Finally, it seems profoundly unlikely that either mark will serve to deceive consumers. It is truly difficult to imagine a serious scenario in which a consumer seeks out a hat or t-shirt sporting the trademark of one company and mistakenly purchases a product from the other company.

 

Bonus Find: Google Hints at a Huge Branding Problem for Caterpillar

While researching for this blog post, Google offered me additional helpful information regarding other inquiries about Caterpillar, Inc. Google indicates that the number one question that average users have about Caterpillar is whether it is also Cat:

 

Caterpillar problem

 

That is a huge problem. That is a failure of branding. That is the “Where’s the Beef?” advertisement all over again. (An enormously popular advertisement, yet consumers failed to correctly identify the advertisement with the correct brand, product, or company.) Maybe Caterpillar is scrambling to bat down other trademarks in the hopes that consumers will know who they are if they are the only company left with a cat-related trademark.

This is a bitterly ironic discovery. This lack of brand understanding isn’t Cat & Cloud’s fault. It isn’t anyone fault besides Caterpillar’s. If consumers don’t connect a trademark to a company, it doesn’t matter how thoroughly that company defends the trademark. Caterpillar doesn’t have a likelihood of confusion problem with competitors or other companies outside of their industry. Caterpillar has a likelihood of confusion problem with itself. Maybe marketing should work on reconciling the “CAT” and the “Caterpillar” before the company invests in aggressive trademark protection.

Perhaps this confusion is the effect of Caterpillar’s own identity crisis: Is this a Caterpillar company or is this a Cat company? Caterpillar might resolve a lot of its problems if it picked one animal and stuck to it. Perhaps Caterpillar set itself up for an IP portfolio headache by stretching its trademarks as far as its goods when it decided to become a clothing and heavy machinery company that is known as two completely different kinds of animals.

 

The Charitable Interpretation

Despite the bad press Caterpillar is getting, I think there is an empathetic viewpoint: Caterpillar is actually in a very weak position, and they are compensating with an aggressive strategy. “CAT” is actually a sub-optimal trademark, and Caterpillar feels stuck with it.

Caterpillar has two facts against them:

1) Their truncated mark spells “cat”

2) Cats are exceptional popular, wide-spread, well-liked, and generally excellent subjects for brands

I don’t think Caterpillar ever wanted to be a cat company; they didn’t name their company after anything remotely feline. The irony is that Caterpillar probably doesn’t want to be defending “cat” as a trademark — after all, the company never really picked it. Caterpillar is unlucky to have a truncated mark that happens to spell “CAT,” and the company is concerned about how difficult that mark is to protect. After careful consideration, the company has decided that their best chance at protecting their truncated mark is to aggressively seek out trademarks that involve the word “CAT” and pursue actions against those trademark holders.

Caterpillar seems to be leaning into the hand they’ve been dealt: the company applied for two more trademark registrations last August that incorporate some honeycomb design into the mark (Serial numbers 88080972 and 88080934). I think we’ll know that Caterpillar has gone too far if the company pursues actions against other companies that make any use of honeycomb lattice designs in their logos, marks, such as Post Foods (for their Honeycomb cereal) or the American Beekeeping Federation.

 

Conclusion: Can’t Own Every “Cat”

The troubling fact for Caterpillar’s IP management is that their truncated mark happens to be an entirely different English word—an extremely common, extremely brand-able (because of the American fondness for cats) English word.

This accidentally expands the range of what Caterpillar has to consider when thinking about IP protection. It turns out that Americans like cats, and associating with something positive is a classic brand-building technique. So a lot of companies are prone to incorporating felines into their branding. This shouldn’t have anything to do with a company named after a butterfly larva, but trademarks are more about language than they are about zoology.

There are 2459 results for live marks in the USPTO Trademark Database with the word “CAT.” Caterpillar can’t deny IP ownership of every “cat.” But Caterpillar can’t idly sit by and let their trademark fade into oblivion because cats got a popularity boost from social media.

The central battle in IP is defining the boundaries of ownership (this is what it has in common with other types of property law). Caterpillar surely understands that no single company can own every instance or usage of the word “CAT.” But Caterpillar just as surely understands its risks: that a mark like “CAT” is extremely difficult to protect, and is likely to become a weak mark without constant vigilance.

There are strategic reasons for defending IP aggressively. But somewhere, there is a line between an aggressive defense and an offensive offense. Although Caterpillar’s strategy is understandable, there has to be a limit to a trademark portfolio. If Caterpillar hasn’t crossed that line with its cancellation action against Cat & Cloud, it surely must be getting very close.

 

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I have to include the caveat that there may be more to this particular case than is apparent. Research on open litigation is challenging. Seemingly insignificant or unimportant details can completely alter the course of a legal analysis. As always, nothing in this post constitutes legal advice and is for educational purposes only.

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Fun Fact: Caterpillar owns the second oldest “Cat” mark in the TESS database.

Second oldest CAT mark: 0564272, issued Sept 1952

Oldest Mark: TOMCAT:  0552420, issued Dec 1951.

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Bonus Background Trademark Knowledge: Two Types of Proceedings

What is an Opposition?

An opposition proceeding is when one party applies for a trademark, the USPTO says, “If anyone doesn’t think we should approve this trademark, speak now or … well, file a cancellation proceeding later.” An opposition is another party speaking up just before a trademark is granted.

Trademark owners sometimes file oppositions that sound egregious. But filing an opposition is sometimes just a way of announcing that you care about your trademark; in some of the more outlandish cases, the opposing party doesn’t really expect the USPTO to deny the application—the opposing party is just establishing a record. Other times, the opposing party really does think that there is a legitimate concern with the applicant’s trademark. The proceeding between Caterpillar, Inc. and PetraCat was an opposition proceeding (and as a result, PetaCat was not granted a registration for their trademark).

 

What is a Cancellation?

After the USPTO has approved an application and given a certificate of registration to a trademark holder, sometimes another party realizes that there is some reason that the trademark registration should be cancelled. A cancellation is different from an opposition in the fact that the defendant has already received a trademark registration. This gives a little bit more of a presumption of legitimacy to the defendant than the applicant has in an opposition proceeding. The proceeding between Caterpillar and Cat & Cloud is a cancellation proceeding.

 

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What Slay the Spire can Teach About Digital Media Access Decisions

When I heard that iTunes was scheduled for destruction, I was baffled and alarmed. I have since learned that the service is being split and re-branded, in a sort of platform-mitosis. But I had several conversations in which my interlocutors were not persuaded of the merits of media ownership over streaming media. Having collected my thoughts, and faced with Google’s Stadia announcement as well as even the phantasmal threat of an iTunes closure, I hope to make a case here that media ownership reduces wildly unpredictable and uncontrollable elements of media consumption.

Slaying The Spire, With Just a Little Luck (Or a Lot of It)

Slay the Spire is a rare case in which combining a lot of ideas into a game doesn’t make the game feel chaotic and confusing. The game consists of progressing through the levels of an eponymous spire, each level consists of some encounter or event—very, very often, a combat event. Combat in this game is a resource-management card game: using a limited pool of “energy,” cards are played that either deal damage or prevent damage from being taken. Each card costs a different amount of energy, so strategic choices have to be made to optimize offense and defense. At the end of a combat, the player is presented with three choices for a new card to add to the deck. The same deck is carried through the spire, so each completed combat presents an opportunity for new cards for future encounters.

Slay the Spire gets its replay value from the unpredictable factors that permeate the game. There is randomness within the combat encounter, as a player’s options are defined by the cards that are drawn from the deck on any given turn. Then there is further randomization in the events themselves (what enemies you fight, if any, on any particular level of the Spire). Slay the Spire adds randomness in the building of the player’s deck: there are no guarantees that you will even have the option to add a certain card to your deck in a particular run of 50 levels in a Spire. (I once spent an entire run through a Spire trying to assemble a deck centered around one specific card that would greatly amplify my defensive capabilities—I never even saw that card, and inexplicably still got to the final level.) And I haven’t even discussed the role of Relics in the game, which can provide small bonuses or fundamentally alter game mechanics. All of these unpredictable, randomly-generated chances and choices give the game replay value and make it interesting, fun, and challenging. Putting choices out of a player’s control can be an element of a great game, but it’s not a part of a great day.

 

Unpredictable Elements

There are a lot of components involved in the everyday digital tasks that fill (and sometimes sustain) our lives. The device has to work properly, it has to connect to a network, the network has to function, and we also rely on the server that hosts the data we want. Anything from dropping a cell phone to a power outage to an unplugged cable somewhere in a distant city can cause the entire process to fail. It is really amazing and awe-inspiring that the entire system works as well as it does. Of course, sometimes, something goes wrong.

For purposes of today’s discussion, I think it’s helpful to divide the possible problems into two categories: those in the user’s control, and those outside of the user’s control. So, whether I charge my cell phone, whether I spill water on my computer, whether I use a program correctly—those are, practically speaking, in the domain of the user. However, the city’s electrical power grid is not something a user can single-handedly maintain or repair. Similarly, the user cannot control conditions at a distant server farm, or control the telecommunications network that links the user to those servers.

This, it seems, is where I diverge from so much of my demographic cohort. I don’t want my access to media to rely on these two additional components (telecommunications and data-holding servers). Maybe I would feel differently if I had better experiences, but I have repeatedly been unable to play games or watch movies because at least one of these components has failed. I have encountered this setback for over a decade- in some cases, I have experienced it daily, over the course of months. In contrast, when I think back to those halcyon days in which I owned my media, the only obstacle was a scratched DVD or a VHS tape that was just too-well-loved (we all have a childhood story of the tape that we watched so many times that the playback became warped and distorted).

Conclusion

The unpredictable nature of the available choices in Slay the Spire keeps an otherwise repetitive game novel and engaging. By forcing the player to consider various probabilities and possibilities, the game creates challenge and the kind of frustration that invites a player to learn, try again, and do better next time. I cannot understand the kind of person who willingly invites this kind of challenge and frustration into the process of trying to listen to music or watch a movie. Conversely, if a player had control over any of these random elements in Slay the Spire, the game would be easier. For both Slay the Spire and media access, generally, the same rule applies: the more control one has over the variables, the less challenging the experience.

There are other issues implicated in this debate that I didn’t touch on: the data privacy questions that come with streaming and DRM protections, the reasonable efforts of artists and publishers to protect their copyrights and profit from their works, the legal status of digital goods, etc. Those issues deserve consideration (which is why I have written about them before and will do so again), but I wanted to keep my focus narrow for the sake of clarity. My perspective on this question can be distilled to one personal point: I do not feel that there is evidence to support the claim that US telecommunications networks are more reliable than I am. I simply trust myself more than I trust those corporations, their services, and their infrastructure. Likewise, I trust myself more than I trust the media companies that provide the platforms and media. This is true on a day-to-day basis (for telecom), and it is true for long-term planning (media providers make no promises that they will last longer than my interest in the media they provide).

I can trust electricity providers—they have proven themselves. Power outages certainly do occur, but their frequency, cause, and duration are within acceptable parameters.* Maybe it comes down to what inconveniences, unknowns, and probabilities we are willing to accept. I can live in a world where my electricity is out for maybe 30 minutes per year. I’m not excited to choose a world in which I can access my own leisure at the leisure of so many other people.

 

 

 

 

*The fact that power failures necessarily cause network failures would be a meaningful riposte if my point were strictly confined to unadjusted uptime comparisons.

How Pirates Change Games (It’s Usually Not An Improvement)

Sea Of Thieves: It’s Not Called “Sea of Cool Guys” – Mike Krahulik

Sea Of Thieves is a game where people who want to be pirates can be pirates. Some players really, really  get into the role. Every online game community has experienced some trolling and griefing; there are always players who invent their own game, though it’s always the same game, in which the objective is to make other players unhappy. The developers of Sea of Thieves specifically designed space for that kind of player—unlike other games which seek to curtail negative behavior and ban players who ruin a good time for others. In a game about pirates, wanton aggression has a place.

 

When You’re a Professional Pirate…

It took me a while to understand how copyright infringement (and counterfeiting) came to be called by the same term that was previously reserved for attacking a ship, killing the crew, and stealing their stuff. The two crimes don’t really look similar: copying a digital file rarely involves a cutlass or a flintlock pistol, taking barrels of rum or chests of gold, and typically doesn’t involve boats at all (except when moving a lot of counterfeit goods internationally, I guess).

I think the term makes more sense from the perspective of the owners of the rights. Pirates of the 15th-19th centuries were hard to find, hard to predict, and hard to pursue. Sometimes their attacks wouldn’t be noticed for months, as it was hard to get good cell phone reception in the mid-Atlantic in the 1600’s. So, when music, movies, books, and games started getting copied and distributed, and rights owners struggled to identify who was doing it, where they were, or what they might do next, as they completely disrupted the industry’s ability to sell and distribute their wares, I imagine pirates came to mind.

 

Countermeasures

Media industries reacted to piracy differently, as best fit the particular medium. The music industry moved away from physical goods and into the digital marketplace. The iTunes Music Store was, in many ways, like the P2P networks that had threatened the industry, except that Apple was the only one seeding and they charged for each song.

The video game industry took a different approach. After a short-lived effort to encrypt physical copies, the industry moved to a digital distribution system. This was easy enough, and platforms like Steam and the Play Station Store were already moving the industry in this direction. The next move, however, was for the internet to start shaping the way games were played: online gaming became increasingly popular, and developers and publishers realized that it was easier to keep track digital copies if devices had to connect to the company’s servers. It was a natural fit: the games already involved internet connection, so it wasn’t much more work to have the serves check to see if players had authentic copies of the games. Because the game required player to be always online, this method became known as Always-On DRM. When it worked well, it was something that honest players would never notice or think about. But it didn’t always work so well.

Rebellion

The new system worked well for some games. Other games… well, suffered. Sometimes, the online connection requirement was obviously completely artificial and frustrated players because the setup made no sense. This exacerbated problems in cases of poor execution: when a server couldn’t connect, it was even more frustrating when the server wasn’t necessary for the game experience. Even today, not everyone has a consistent, stable, high-speed internet connection (especially in the US). Many players just wanted a simple, single-player experience, and Always-On DRM interfered with that. The method created an environment that only allowed players to play when the company was able to facilitate it; if the server was down, or the connection was slow, the game was unplayable. This upset people who paid for a leisure product and then found out they could not use it at their leisure. By increasing friction and fuelling resentment against the game industry, some game companies suffered as they tried to implement Always-On DRM. The artificial inclusion of Always-On DRM to the reboot of the incredibly popular and successful video game SimCity is credited with its failure (notably, the execution of the Always-On DRM was sub-par, as the server was frequently down or buggy).

 

Pirate By Design

Sea of Thieves found success as a game by embracing a certain attitude that the rest of the industry had been fighting for decades. The developers made a space for people who want to undermine the work of others. So far, it’s been an interesting experiment that I can only predict will culminate in the coagulation of that particular kind of trolling, griefing player. I see it as a kind of prison in which the inmates believe they are at a theme park. Maybe the game will eventually give us some kind of data about trolls who revel in ruining the joy of others. Maybe it will teach us something about pirates.

There is already a lesson about piracy for video games. In the early 90s, piracy was built into the business model of some companies. They called it “shareware,” and the idea was that people would copy and distribute a portion of a game. The developer hoped that this would serve as a sort of advertising, and people who enjoyed the shareware portion of the game would then purchase the full game. In 1993-4, idSoftware proved that this model was feasible with one of the most popular games of the 90s: Doom was distributed widely as a shareware product and the company made enough profit for the head programmer and the lead level designer to each purchase a high-end sports car. This year, idSoftware released Rage 2; unsurprisingly, the new parent company, ZeniMax, did not opt for a shareware distribution model. The video game industry has changed over the last 30 years. It takes a special combination of product, customer, and ecosystem for it to be a smart choice to give away a third of your product for free—but it’s not an impossible dream.

Today, piracy remains a problem for the video game industry, but new legal challenges (some with more legitimate basis than others) have proven more urgent: legislation of loot boxes, esports contracts, prosumer sponsorship deals and disclosures, copyright infringement within the game, and copyright infringement for streaming and video uploads.

Maybe that’s the best reason to keep the term “piracy” for copyright infringement that involves copying the entire work and distributing for consumption as a counterfeit or inauthentic product: there are so many ways copyright can be involved in a video game in the current digital ecosystem, have different terms for the different infringements is nice.