This is grim, if interesting. And no, it's not nearly as bad as the article's title might lead you to fear. It's sweet, actually.
Confirmation bias is probably at work here, but still.
The scientist in Dr. David Dosa was skeptical when first told that Oscar, an aloof cat kept by a nursing home, regularly predicted patients' deaths by snuggling alongside them in their final hours.
But his doubts eroded after he and his colleagues tallied about 50 correct calls made by Oscar over five years.
Dosa explains the process in a book released this week, Making Rounds With Oscar: The Extraordinary Gift of an Ordinary Cat.
The feline's bizarre talent astounds Dosa, but he finds Oscar's real worth in his fierce insistence on being present when others turn away from life's most uncomfortable topic: death.
"People actually were taking great comfort in this idea, that this animal was there and might be there when their loved ones eventually pass," Dosa said. "He was there when they couldn't be."
[. . .]
The nursing home adopted Oscar, a medium-haired cat with a grey-and-brown back and white belly, in 2005 because its staff thinks pets make the Steere House a home. They play with visiting children and prove a welcome distraction for patients and doctors alike.
After a year, the staff noticed that Oscar would spend his days pacing from room to room. He sniffed and looked at the patients but rarely spent much time with anyone — except when they had just hours to live.
He's accurate enough that the staff — including Dosa — know it's time to call family members when Oscar stretches beside their patients, who are generally too ill to notice his presence. If kept outside the room of a dying patient, he'll scratch at doors and walls, trying to get in.
Confirmation bias is probably at work here, but still.