Oscar the Cat Predicts Death in Nursing Home

The Grim Reaper is the personification of death as a living, sentient entity. It is usually depicted as a skeletal figure cloaked in a hooded, black cloak and wielding a massive scythe. But in the case of Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Centre in Providence, Rhode Island, the Grim Reaper takes on a different form.

The Grim Reaper is a cat. Oscar the cat, to be precise.

Most of the time, Oscar is like any other cat. He spends his days at the nursing home dozing on stacks of patient reports, sprawled across the nurses' desks, or curled up in the linen closet.

When alert and awake, however, Oscar patrols the corridors like a Soldier on guard, marching in and out of the patients' rooms. He pays no mind to those who are unhealthy or even dying but not yet about to die. When Oscar jumps up on your bed, snuggles up against you, and begins to purr, it means that the Grim Reaper is close enough to put his arm around you.

"We've come to recognise him hopping on the bed as one indicator the end is very near," says charge nurse, Mary Miranda. "Oscar's been consistently right."

In the two years since Oscar was adopted, he has predicted the death of more than 25 patients. In fact, his predictions are so accurate that when he settles down on a patient's bed, the staff of Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center summon the family immediately.

But not everyone is grateful for Oscar's gift. Sometimes, families insist on his removal from the room. In such instances, Oscar rubs against the door, pacing and mewling insistently.

"Let me in," he seems to say. "I am the ferrier of souls, and I have a job to do."

Most families, however, are grateful for Oscar's service when they are summoned and able to spend a final hour with their loved ones before they pass on to the other side. They gather around the bed while he continues to purr, a soothing rhythm that continues until the Grim Reaper takes his prize. When it is over, Oscar jumps down from the bed and glides out of the room, unnoticed by the grieving guests.

Oscar even has a plaque recognizing his service. It hangs near the charting area and reads, "For his compassionate hospice care, this plaque is awarded to Oscar the Cat."

Perhaps Oscar's extraordinary gift -- his ability to predict the coming of death -- explains the origin of the superstition regarding cats sucking the breath from babies. Maybe cats are not responsible, but merely sense the approach of death and ensure their presence when the time comes.

Then again, who knows. Maybe they are responsible. Maybe Oscar and his fellow cats are like little furry Grim Reapers running around decided who lives and who dies.

Now that would make you think twice before skimping on the Friskies.