How Does 'The Cats Of Ulthar' End?

Patch changes in 'Minecraft' actually flipped how ocelots and cats behave, and that trips up a lot of players — I was one of them. In older versions you could feed an ocelot fish and it would turn into a cat, but since the village-and-pillage revamp that changed: ocelots remain wild jungle creatures and cats are separate mobs you tame directly. If you want to keep cats now, you find the cat (usually around villages or wandering near villagers), hold raw cod or raw salmon, approach slowly so you don’t spook it, and feed until hearts appear. Once tamed a cat will follow you, but to make it stay put you right-click (or use the sit command) to make it sit. To move them long distances I usually pop them into a boat or a minecart — boats are delightfully easy and cats fit in them just fine. Tamed cats won’t despawn, they can be named with a name tag, and you can breed them with fish so you can get more kittens. I keep a small indoor garden for mine so they’re safe from creepers and zombies (cats ward off creepers anyway), and I build low fences and a little catdoor to keep them from wandering onto dangerous ledges. It’s such a cozy little detail in 'Minecraft' that I always end up with at least three lounging around my base — they make any base feel more like a home.

Funny thing—my first clue came from how my cat looked at me during thunderstorms. His pupils would balloon into impossible black coins and his whiskers twitched like antennae whenever lightning flashed, but the weird part was that his shadow didn’t always follow him: sometimes it lagged a beat, sometimes it stared in the wrong direction. After that I started noticing smaller, stranger things. He learned to open doors, to sit on the exact page I was reading and flip it with his paw, and on one quiet morning I woke up to find my grandmother’s old coin on the floor when I was sure no one had been in the room. He’d been alive longer than he should have been, too—he never seemed to age like other pets; gray never touched his muzzle. There are classic folklore signs people talk about—tails that split or twitch unnaturally, sudden humanlike laughter, eyes reflecting not light but memory—but from living with one I learned to look at the pattern, not just the spectacle. A cat that mimics human expressions, appears in dreams that feel too real, or seems to know secrets about your family might be more than mischievous. I also learned to be careful: don’t corner the animal or try to force a reaction. Photograph the odd behaviors, keep a log, and get a vet check first (sometimes neurological issues explain strange acts). If you want a gentler route, play calming music, create routines, and read up on 'Bakeneko' and 'Nekomata' tales for context—the old stories taught me to respect boundaries more than to fear them. Mostly, I treat the uncanny with calm curiosity. If your pet is one of the cursed cats, you’ll probably notice a growing pattern of small impossibilities rather than one big spectacle. Stay kind, stay observant, and let your instincts and a vet’s eye guide you—sometimes the strangest companions are the ones who teach you the most about wonder.

I got sucked into the meme stream late one night and kept seeing the same thing over and over: oddly posed, slightly off-kilter cats plastered into gothic backdrops. Most people I follow online trace that wave back to the Netflix series 'Wednesday'. The show's aesthetic—moody lighting, deadpan humor, and a very meme-able lead—gave fans the perfect raw material to photoshop and caption cats into delightfully cursed scenarios. As someone who spends too much time in fandom corners, I noticed how quickly TikTok and Reddit amplified it. Creators would take stills from 'Wednesday', drop in a weird-looking cat, slap on ominous text, and boom—new cursed image. It wasn't only the show itself but the timing: a massive audience hungry for spooky, ironic content. Combine that with the internet's eternal love for cats and you get the recent explosion in cursed-cat imagery. If you want to hunt these down, check out tags on TikTok like #WednesdayMemes or browse subreddits dedicated to cursed images. You'll also find echoes from other gothic sources—little nods to 'Coraline' or 'The Addams Family'—but the recent spike? Yeah, most folks credit 'Wednesday' for lighting the fuse. Honestly, it still makes me laugh how a single show's vibe can turn my feed into a cat-powered haunted house sometimes.

Sketching cursed cats is one of my favorite rabbit holes — I get a weird thrill trying to make something both adorable and unsettling. I usually start with silhouette and gesture: a hunched back, extra-long tail that frames the face, ears tipped with little nicks. Those shapes tell a story before you add eyes. I’ll doodle on receipts and the backs of grocery lists while sipping instant coffee, then refine the best ones on a tablet late at night. To make the “cursed” vibe stick, I play with asymmetry — one eye larger, tufts of fur that look almost like runes, or a collar made from found bits (tiny bones, thread-wrapped keys). The key is balance: keep it marketable so people still want to hug or pin it, but introduce one or two elements that prick the imagination. From there it's material thinking: will this be a plush, enamel pin, resin figure, or patch? Each medium asks different questions — embroidery reads as quaint, resin can hold translucent eerie details, and plush needs seams placed so the face keeps its expression. I agonize over color palettes; muted purples and washed-out greens can read as spooky without becoming a Halloween cliché. Prototypes are everything: I’ve squeezed a hundred sample plushes in late-night tests to see how the expression survives shipping. Packaging becomes part of the myth too — a little lore card in the box (a short curse in a stylized typewriter font) makes collectors smile. Finally, community matters. I throw out sketches on socials, watch which details get re-drawn by fans, and adjust. Sometimes a stray comment about a missing bell or a preferred eye color shifts an entire line. Designing cursed cats is as much about storytelling as it is about form; if people buy and then invent bedtime myths about your creature, you’ve done your job — that feeling never gets old.

I get a little giddy hunting down weird, adorable merch, so here’s a long list of places I personally check when I want 'ugly cat' stuff. The usual starting spots are Etsy and Redbubble — Etsy is great for handmade pins, embroidered patches, and quirky plushies made by small sellers, while Redbubble and Society6 are where I grab stickers, art prints, and phone cases from independent artists. TeePublic and Threadless often have tees and hoodies with bold designs if you want wearable weirdness. For mass-market convenience I’ll glance at Amazon and eBay; they sometimes have licensed or knockoff items, so I watch reviews and photos closely. If I’m hunting for limited-run enamel pins or art books, Kickstarter and Indiegogo are gold mines — you can back a cool project and get exclusive variants. I also follow artists on Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: many creators run their own Shopify or Big Cartel shops and announce drops there, and that’s where I’ve scored the most original pieces. A few quick tips from my personal trials: use search terms like 'ugly cat art', 'weird cat sticker', or 'grumpy cat parody' (but be careful of trademarked characters), filter by ratings and recent reviews, and ask sellers about print methods (DTG vs screen printing) and materials. Whenever possible I support small artists directly — shipping might take longer but the designs are usually more thoughtful. Happy collecting — I always get a kick when a new artist shows up in my feed!

Cats do have what looks like an Adam's apple, but it's not like ours. It’s the larynx, which is more pronounced in some male cats. They have a little bump in their throat where their voice box sits, giving them that distinct sound when they meow or purr. It’s a fun little detail if you're a cat fan!

I absolutely adore cozy romance mysteries with cats—they’re like a warm cup of tea in book form. One of my all-time favorites is 'The Cat Who Could Read Backwards' by Lilian Jackson Braun. The series follows a journalist and his two Siamese cats who solve mysteries together. The chemistry between the human characters is subtle but sweet, and the cats? They’re practically detectives themselves. Another gem is 'Curiosity Thrilled the Cat' by Sofie Kelly. It’s set in a small town with a librarian who has magical cats helping her uncover secrets. The romance is slow-burn, and the feline antics add so much charm. For something lighter, 'Paws and Effect' by Leighann Dobbs mixes humor, romance, and a clever cat who always seems to be one step ahead of everyone else. These books are perfect for curling up with on a rainy day.

The main conflict in 'By the Bog of Cats' revolves around Hester Swane, a woman deeply tied to the land and her past, fighting against the forces that want to erase her existence. It’s a raw, heartbreaking struggle that feels almost mythic in its intensity. Hester is a traveler, an outsider in a community that sees her as something to discard, and her battle isn’t just with the people around her but with the very idea of belonging. The play digs into themes of displacement, motherhood, and the cruel way tradition can be used as a weapon. Hester’s love for her daughter, Josie, is fierce, but so is her refusal to let go of the bog—a place that’s as much a part of her as her own blood. The tension between her and the locals, especially Caroline Cassidy, who’s set to marry Hester’s ex-lover, Carthage, is electric. It’s not just a love triangle; it’s a clash of worlds, where Hester’s wild, untamed spirit smashes against the rigid expectations of society. The supernatural elements amplify the conflict. The ghost of Hester’s brother, the omens of the bog, the way the land itself seems to mourn—it all adds this eerie layer to her fight. She’s not just battling people; she’s battling fate. The play’s brilliance lies in how it makes Hester’s desperation feel inevitable, like the bog’s mist creeping in. Her final act isn’t just tragic; it’s a rebellion, a way of claiming her story on her own terms. The conflict isn’t neatly resolved, because how could it be? The bog doesn’t forgive, and neither does Hester. It’s messy, brutal, and unforgettable, exactly as it should be.