I believe I will refer to him Dr. Oscar from now on.

What I find interesting is that he seems to know
what purpose the hospice is for, and has taken
on the somewhat aloof personality the doctors
and nurses must use themselves.
Only his form of treatment is different.

The other amazing thing I heard was that Dr. Oscar
can be more accurate than human doctors.
Some of the human doctors would give a patient only
a few hours, and Dr. Oscar would sniff around and
walk out of the room...meaning the patient had more
time.
Dr. Oscars predictions were more accurate.

A Day in the Life of Oscar the Cat
By Dr. David M Dosa, M.D., M.P.H.

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 Mr. 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 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 say, " 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 sing first, along the way side stepping Mr. S.,
who is slumped over a couch in the hallway.  With lips
slightly pursed, he snores peacefully-- perhaps blissfully
unaware of where 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 nurses's aide carrying dirty lines.  "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 take no notice of the woman and leaps up onto her
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 weather Mrs. T is unconfortable 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 finally 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 besides
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 c`called to deliver last rites.  And still, Oscar
has not budged, instead purring and gently nuzzling
Mrs. K.  A young grandson ask 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 an engraved
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 a while.

It has amazed me since I started coming to this site how convoluted some of
the responses get.  

I saw this article and we talked about it at work.  Animals have such an
uncanny sense about them.  There are many stories about dogs and cats that
seemingly can tap into energy that we humans can only imagine.  What a
special kitty Oscar is...and how nice he can offer comfort to these patients
during their last hours on earth.