Oscar: The Cat Who Knew When It Was Time
Oscar didn't comfort patients. He chose them. When he walked into a room and lay down beside someone, the nurses called the family. Not because a doctor said to. Because the cat had decided to sit.
Steere House, Providence
Oscar arrived at Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Providence, Rhode Island in 2005 as a small, standoffish kitten. He hid under beds. He kept to himself. He was not the kind of cat who came when called, or who settled in laps, or who made any obvious effort to be liked.
The staff noted him mostly because he was there. A shelter kitten placed in a memory care unit, wandering the corridors, doing very little of interest.
Then they started noticing the pattern.
What the Staff Noticed
When a patient was within hours of dying, Oscar would appear at their door. He'd push it open with his paw, walk in, circle the bed once, and lie down. If the patient's family was not there, the nurses would call them. Oscar had chosen the room. Time was short.
He would stay through the night if he had to. When the patient died, he left.
He wasn't affectionate toward the dying in any comforting sense. He didn't purr for them or nuzzle them. He simply stayed. Whether that was comfort is something the families had to decide for themselves.
What they could agree on: most of them made it in time to say goodbye.
The New England Journal of Medicine, July 2007
Dr. David Dosa, a geriatric specialist on staff, wrote about Oscar in the New England Journal of Medicine in 2007. He had been present at roughly 25 deaths by that point. The article ran under the title "A Day in the Life of Oscar the Cat." It spread everywhere.
Researchers tried to explain it. The leading theory: Oscar was detecting biochemical changes in the body during the dying process, likely the buildup of ketone bodies in the skin, a change in temperature, or a shift in scent that the human staff couldn't perceive. No one could confirm it. Oscar didn't explain himself.
By 2015, he had been present at more than a hundred deaths. A book followed. Letters arrived from around the world. Families wrote to say they had made it in time because a cat had sat down in a room on a Wednesday morning.
February 22, 2022
Oscar died that day. He was seventeen years old, which is a long life for a cat. For the first time in fifteen years, there was no early warning. No one to call the family. No one to sit through the night.
The floor continued. Oscar did not.
Watch the Episode
Enjoying the stories? Subscribe to From Paw to Tail on YouTube for a new true animal story every week.
For Cat Lovers
Dr. Dosa wrote the full account in Making Rounds with Oscar, which is worth reading. We also have a cat collection in the shop if you're shopping for your own.
Sources
- Dosa, David M. "A Day in the Life of Oscar the Cat." New England Journal of Medicine, July 2007.
- Dosa, David M. Making Rounds with Oscar (Hyperion, 2010).
- Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center records, Providence, Rhode Island.
More true animal stories: From Paw to Tail Blog