Making Rounds with Oscar: The Extraordinary Gift of an Ordinary Cat - By David Dosa Page 0,3

fish that sense earthquakes before they happen. And what about Lassie? He always knew when Timmy fell down the well.”

Mary was not amused. “You know, Oscar wandered into another patient’s room right before she died yesterday.”

The look on my face must have said it all because Mary stopped trying to convince me. For a moment we both looked in silence at the scene in front of us. The cat, curled up next to Mrs. Davis’s leg, was quietly purring.

“Don’t get me wrong, Mary,” I said, breaking the spell. “I love the concept of an animal sitting with me as I die. It’s really quite sweet. I had a dog growing up and he was always by my side.”

I walked over by the bed and reached down to pet Oscar. With lightning reflexes he slapped my hand with his front paw. I pulled back, searching for evidence of blood.

“I told you he’s not that friendly,” Mary said with a smile.

“Friendly! He damn near tried to maul me!” I replied with an air of unnecessary drama.

“Oh, he’s okay. Oscar really is affectionate when he wants to be. He just tries to protect his patients.”

“Mary, he’s a cat—cats don’t do anything unless there’s something in it for them. He’s probably just looking for some empty real estate and a warm blanket to sit on.”

I studied my hand some more, looking for the nonexistent scratch.

“God, you’re a baby. He barely even touched you.”

“The truth is, Mary, I really don’t like cats. And from the evidence I can honestly say that I don’t think he much likes me either.”

Mary laughed. “Cats don’t hate you, they just know if you’re afraid or not. If you are, they respond accordingly.”

“Don’t laugh,” I said, “but I had a bad experience with a cat while I was a kid and it left me a little traumatized.”

For a moment I contemplated telling her the story of my grandmother’s cat, but the look of mock sympathy on Mary’s face convinced me that it would be better to keep the past in the past.

“Some cats are just ornery,” she said breaking the silence. “Some people too, I suppose. But you can’t forsake every cat because of one bad experience. Besides, you know we wouldn’t have a cat here if there was even the slightest chance it would hurt anybody. Even a doctor!”

“Very funny.” I looked back at Oscar and Mrs. Davis. “You know, maybe he likes patients who are dying because they don’t give him any trouble.”

“I don’t know, David. I really think there’s something more to it.”

“So does that mean that Mrs. Davis is going to die today?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

I LEFT THE HOSPITAL and drove across town to my outpatient clinic. Unconsciously I found myself thinking of the cat at my grandmother’s cottage. His name was Puma, and appropriately so. In my mind, he was a thirty-pound behemoth of a cat—as any fisherman will tell you, size tends to get larger over time—and for years he terrorized me every time I entered “his house.” As I thought of his eyes burning with hatred toward me, I told myself that my fear of cats was not irrational.

Mid-reverie my cell phone rang. It was Mary.

“Mrs. Davis died a few minutes after you left.”

It had been less than an hour since I was standing in her room watching her breathe. Even after years of seeing it happen, I still feel a sense of humility at being so close to a death.

“Look, Mary. Don’t make too much of that cat business. She was going to die soon anyway. She had two horrible diagnoses.”

“Yeah, she did, but I’m telling you that this is happening with some regularity up here. In fact it’s pretty much happening every time someone dies. Even some of the residents’ families are beginning to talk about it.”

She was quiet for moment.

“David,” she said, “I really think the cat knows.”

CHAPTER TWO

“A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way.”

MARK TWAIN

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A REALLY BAD DAY, THE KIND THAT makes you question everything you’ve done and causes you to worry about all that the future holds?

I was having just such a day about six months after my initial encounter with Oscar. I was sitting in my office, staring out of the window. On a clear day my window offers a spectacular view, especially in the summertime when the blue water of Narragansett Bay shimmers beneath a bright sky and marshmallow clouds. In