Oscar the Cat Predicts Patients' Deaths

I hope it doesn't curl up next to me....

This just proves the effectiveness of cat scans.

Maybe that cat kills people with some type of unholy power, instead of being able to tell if someone is dieing...

I think it's obvious the cat is sucking the souls out of these people...trapping them in some kind of limbo between heaven and hell. I get no solace from that.

People used to suspect cats in cases of crib death, too, but maybe the cats just knew the babies were dying. Or, I guess it could be soul-sucking too. Cats do have something about them that could feed paranoia.

Wow, good read. Incredible.

Original NEJM article:

Oscar the Cat awakens from his nap, opening a single eye to survey his kingdom. From atop the desk in the doctor's charting area, the cat peers down the two wings of the nursing home's advanced dementia unit. All quiet on the western and eastern fronts. Slowly, he rises and extravagantly stretches his 2-year-old frame, first backward and then forward. He sits up and considers his next move.

In the distance, a resident approaches. It is Mrs. P., who has been living on the dementia unit's third floor for 3 years now. She has long forgotten her family, even though they visit her almost daily. Moderately disheveled after eating her lunch, half of which she now wears on her shirt, Mrs. P. is taking one of her many aimless strolls to nowhere. She glides toward Oscar, pushing her walker and muttering to herself with complete disregard for her surroundings. Perturbed, Oscar watches her carefully and, as she walks by, lets out a gentle hiss, a rattlesnake-like warning that says "leave me alone." She passes him without a glance and continues down the hallway. Oscar is relieved. It is not yet Mrs. P.'s time, and he wants nothing to do with her.

Oscar jumps down off the desk, relieved to be once more alone and in control of his domain. He takes a few moments to drink from his water bowl and grab a quick bite. Satisfied, he enjoys another stretch and sets out on his rounds. Oscar decides to head down the west wing first, along the way sidestepping Mr. S., who is slumped over on a couch in the hallway. With lips slightly pursed, he snores peacefully — perhaps blissfully unaware of where he is now living. Oscar continues down the hallway until he reaches its end and Room 310. The door is closed, so Oscar sits and waits. He has important business here.

Twenty-five minutes later, the door finally opens, and out walks a nurse's aide carrying dirty linens. "Hello, Oscar," she says. "Are you going inside?" Oscar lets her pass, then makes his way into the room, where there are two people. Lying in a corner bed and facing the wall, Mrs. T. is asleep in a fetal position. Her body is thin and wasted from the breast cancer that has been eating away at her organs. She is mildly jaundiced and has not spoken in several days. Sitting next to her is her daughter, who glances up from her novel to warmly greet the visitor. "Hello, Oscar. How are you today?"

Oscar takes no notice of the woman and leaps up onto the bed. He surveys Mrs. T. She is clearly in the terminal phase of illness, and her breathing is labored. Oscar's examination is interrupted by a nurse, who walks in to ask the daughter whether Mrs. T. is uncomfortable and needs more morphine. The daughter shakes her head, and the nurse retreats. Oscar returns to his work. He sniffs the air, gives Mrs. T. one final look, then jumps off the bed and quickly leaves the room. Not today.

Making his way back up the hallway, Oscar arrives at Room 313. The door is open, and he proceeds inside. Mrs. K. is resting peacefully in her bed, her breathing steady but shallow. She is surrounded by photographs of her grandchildren and one from her wedding day. Despite these keepsakes, she is alone. Oscar jumps onto her bed and again sniffs the air. He pauses to consider the situation, and then turns around twice before curling up beside Mrs. K.

One hour passes. Oscar waits. A nurse walks into the room to check on her patient. She pauses to note Oscar's presence. Concerned, she hurriedly leaves the room and returns to her desk. She grabs Mrs. K.'s chart off the medical-records rack and begins to make phone calls.

Within a half hour the family starts to arrive. Chairs are brought into the room, where the relatives begin their vigil. The priest is called to deliver last rites. And still, Oscar has not budged, instead purring and gently nuzzling Mrs. K. A young grandson asks his mother, "What is the cat doing here?" The mother, fighting back tears, tells him, "He is here to help Grandma get to heaven." Thirty minutes later, Mrs. K. takes her last earthly breath. With this, Oscar sits up, looks around, then departs the room so quietly that the grieving family barely notices.

On his way back to the charting area, Oscar passes a plaque mounted on the wall. On it is engraved a commendation from a local hospice agency: "For his compassionate hospice care, this plaque is awarded to Oscar the Cat." Oscar takes a quick drink of water and returns to his desk to curl up for a long rest. His day's work is done. There will be no more deaths today, not in Room 310 or in any other room for that matter. After all, no one dies on the third floor unless Oscar pays a visit and stays awhile.

Note: Since he was adopted by staff members as a kitten, Oscar the Cat has had an uncanny ability to predict when residents are about to die. Thus far, he has presided over the deaths of more than 25 residents on the third floor of Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Providence, Rhode Island. His mere presence at the bedside is viewed by physicians and nursing home staff as an almost absolute indicator of impending death, allowing staff members to adequately notify families. Oscar has also provided companionship to those who would otherwise have died alone. For his work, he is highly regarded by the physicians and staff at Steere House and by the families of the residents whom he serves.

lolcatz indeed.

Cats have a sense of emotion in people also. When I was in an emotionally charged conversation with a sig other; my cat would jump on my lap and try to get my attention, even "hitting my" with his paw. I have seem something similar with my sisters' dog. Several weeks ago my father died in a hospice. Mandy, is a dog who goes everywhere and a naturally friendly dog...he went to the hospice often while my Dad was alive. When he died, the entire family arrived at the hospice the same time. Mandy ran to my Dad's room and stopped at the doorway. The dog looked over the ENTIRE room and ceiling with his ears raised and would not go in the room. He went in when all of us were in the room. He just lay at the foot of my fathers' bed just 5 minutes after he passed away. This is not anthropomorphism, but clear examples of the way cats and dogs who live in most our homes know something we don't. Interesting if nothing else.

Animals are so sensitive to us, it is unbelievable that we are, as a rule, so unaware of it. They are our teachers in situations like this. And we children of evolution have a lot to learn from our elders.

Great reading! The world is always much more than we think...

This is truly fascinating. Thanks for seeding!

Freaky moment: I have a two-year-old adopted cat that looks exactly like the cat in the picture.

His name is Oscar.

Cats are very clever creatures, I had one cat that uses to ring the door bell and another that used the door knocker to get us to open the front door.

When I think of Egyptian tombs, I seem to recall that cats were depicted as being present at the time of death. It is my feeling that cats help guide the released spirit of the deceased. Oscar surely uses his advanced olfactory system to determine someone's close proximity to death. I can easily smell when some one is ill or eats alot of junkfood.

Man, I love animals, but if that cat curled up next to me it would get punted so fast...

When you are in that state, as I have witnessed enough times, you cannot respond to anything, just listening and sometimes pain if not relieved to include general comfort...that is ALL! No thing. There may be more happening inside you, but you cannot communicate. Hospice workers will tell you the same information.

This is called "meaningful coincidence". Carl G. Jung has many things to say about it. Perhaps your cat has a similar prophetic streak. I wish you good luck and your Oscar a loving family.

It's amazing to me that we work so hard to simply dismiss this kind of thing, rather than trying to learn from it. "Maybe it's the warm blanket", indeed...

Yes, maybe the cat smells something, or maybe he picks up on other subtle signals that we haven't learned to recognize. Seems like we would do better to seriously consider what those might be.

Just realised why Im a dog lover!

I'm a cat owner and both my cats have never done anything like that. Pretty amazing!!!! The owner should do something to protect the animal, and also perhaps consider insuring this creature! It seems to me that the animal may be a valuable animal!

Perhaps guiness book of records would also be interested in this!

If they put you in that nursing home... tell them to keep that friggin' cat away from you.

There are dogs who have been trained to "smell" cancer. They don't cause it, they sense it. I expect that's what's going on with this cat. The interesting thing is why he chooses to stay with the person who is dying.

"This is not a cat that's friendly to people," he said.

E.g.: this is a cat.