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.