The Cats of Ulthar by H.P. Lovecraft
The Cats of Ulthar
by H.P. Lovecraft
Written 15 Jun 1920 
Published November 1920 in The Tryout, Vol. 6, No. 11, p. 3-9. 
It is said that in Ulthar, which lies beyond the river Skai, no man may kill a 
cat; and this I can verily believe as I gaze upon him who sitteth purring before 
the fire. For the cat is cryptic, and close to strange things which men cannot 
see. He is the soul of antique Aegyptus, and bearer of tales from forgotten 
cities in Meroe and Ophir. He is the kin of the jungle’s lords, and heir to the 
secrets of hoary and sinister Africa. The Sphinx is his cousin, and he speaks 
her language; but he is more ancient than the Sphinx, and remembers that which 
she hath forgotten. 
In Ulthar, before ever the burgesses forbade the killing of cats, there dwelt an 
old cotter and his wife who delighted to trap and slay the cats of their 
neighbors. Why they did this I know not; save that many hate the voice of the 
cat in the night, and take it ill that cats should run stealthily about yards 
and gardens at twilight. But whatever the reason, this old man and woman took 
pleasure in trapping and slaying every cat which came near to their hovel; and 
from some of the sounds heard after dark, many villagers fancied that the manner 
of slaying was exceedingly peculiar. But the villagers did not discuss such 
things with the old man and his wife; because of the habitual expression on the 
withered faces of the two, and because their cottage was so small and so darkly 
hidden under spreading oaks at the back of a neglected yard. In truth, much as 
the owners of cats hated these odd folk, they feared them more; and instead of 
berating them as brutal assassins, merely took care that no cherished pet or 
mouser should stray toward the remote hovel under the dark trees. When through 
some unavoidable oversight a cat was missed, and sounds heard after dark, the 
loser would lament impotently; or console himself by thanking Fate that it was 
not one of his children who had thus vanished. For the people of Ulthar were 
simple, and knew not whence it is all cats first came. 
One day a caravan of strange wanderers from the South entered the narrow cobbled 
streets of Ulthar. Dark wanderers they were, and unlike the other roving folk 
who passed through the village twice every year. In the market-place they told 
fortunes for silver, and bought gay beads from the merchants. What was the land 
of these wanderers none could tell; but it was seen that they were given to 
strange prayers, and that they had painted on the sides of their wagons strange 
figures with human bodies and the heads of cats, hawks, rams and lions. And the 
leader of the caravan wore a headdress with two horns and a curious disk betwixt 
the horns. 
There was in this singular caravan a little boy with no father or mother, but 
only a tiny black kitten to cherish. The plague had not been kind to him, yet 
had left him this small furry thing to mitigate his sorrow; and when one is very 
young, one can find great relief in the lively antics of a black kitten. So the 
boy whom the dark people called Menes smiled more often than he wept as he sat 
playing with his graceful kitten on the steps of an oddly painted wagon. 
On the third morning of the wanderers’ stay in Ulthar, Menes could not find his 
kitten; and as he sobbed aloud in the market-place certain villagers told him of 
the old man and his wife, and of sounds heard in the night. And when he heard 
these things his sobbing gave place to meditation, and finally to prayer. He 
stretched out his arms toward the sun and prayed in a tongue no villager could 
understand; though indeed the villagers did not try very hard to understand, 
since their attention was mostly taken up by the sky and the odd shapes the 
clouds were assuming. It was very peculiar, but as the little boy uttered his 
petition there seemed to form overhead the shadowy, nebulous figures of exotic 
things; of hybrid creatures crowned with horn-flanked disks. Nature is full of 
such illusions to impress the imaginative. 
That night the wanderers left Ulthar, and were never seen again. And the 
householders were troubled when they noticed that in all the village there was 
not a cat to be found. From each hearth the familiar cat had vanished; cats 
large and small, black, grey, striped, yellow and white. Old Kranon, the 
burgomaster, swore that the dark folk had taken the cats away in revenge for the 
killing of Menes’ kitten; and cursed the caravan and the little boy. But Nith, 
the lean notary, declared that the old cotter and his wife were more likely 
persons to suspect; for their hatred of cats was notorious and increasingly 
bold. Still, no one durst complain to the sinister couple; even when little 
Atal, the innkeeper’s son, vowed that he had at twilight seen all the cats of 
Ulthar in that accursed yard under the trees, pacing very slowly and solemnly in 
a circle around the cottage, two abreast, as if in performance of some 
unheard-of rite of beasts. The villagers did not know how much to believe from 
so small a boy; and though they feared that the evil pair had charmed the cats 
to their death, they preferred not to chide the old cotter till they met him 
outside his dark and repellent yard. 
So Ulthar went to sleep in vain anger; and when the people awakened at 
dawn—behold! every cat was back at his accustomed hearth! Large and small, 
black, grey, striped, yellow and white, none was missing. Very sleek and fat did 
the cats appear, and sonorous with purring content. The citizens talked with one 
another of the affair, and marveled not a little. Old Kranon again insisted that 
it was the dark folk who had taken them, since cats did not return alive from 
the cottage of the ancient man .and his wife. But all agreed on one thing: that 
the refusal of all the cats to eat their portions of meat or drink their saucers 
of milk was exceedingly curious. And for two whole days the sleek, lazy cats of 
Ulthar would touch no food, but only doze by the fire or in the sun. 
It was fully a week before the villagers noticed that no lights were appearing 
at dusk in the windows of the cottage under the trees. Then the lean Nith 
remarked that no one had seen the old man or his wife since the night the cats 
were away. In another week the burgomaster decided to overcome his fears and 
call at the strangely silent dwelling as a matter of duty, though in so doing he 
was careful to take with him Shang the blacksmith and Thul the cutter of stone 
as witnesses. And when they had broken down the frail door they found only this: 
two cleanly picked human skeletons on the earthen floor, and a number of 
singular beetles crawling in the shadowy corners. 
There was subsequently much talk among the burgesses of Ulthar. Zath, the 
coroner, disputed at length with Nith, the lean notary; and Kranon and Shang and 
Thul were overwhelmed with questions. Even little Atal, the innkeeper’s son, was 
closely questioned and given a sweetmeat as reward. They talked of the old 
cotter and his wife, of the caravan of dark wanderers, of small Menes and his 
black kitten, of the prayer of Menes and of the sky during that prayer, of the 
doings of the cats on the night the caravan left, and of what was later found in 
the cottage under the dark trees in the repellent yard. 
And in the end the burgesses passed that remarkable law which is told of by 
traders in Hatheg and discussed by travelers in Nir; namely, that in Ulthar no 
man may kill a cat. 




© 1998-1999 William Johns
Last modified: 12/18/1999 18:46:08
