By Tim Sanders

Let me state, at the outset, that I would never condone whacking a cat with a bedpan. I may have given the impression, on occasion, that I do not believe that cats are preternaturally intelligent creatures when compared to, oh, let’s say earwigs or aspirin tablets, but I still wouldn’t whack a cat with a bedpan.

Then again, I never lived in the Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Providence, Rhode Island, where the halls are patrolled by Oscar the Death Cat. If you don’t remember Oscar the Death Cat, then you obviously weren’t paying attention to the cable news channels a couple of weeks ago.

Oscar was a media darling, covered extensively and extravagantly by CNN, MSNBC, Animal Planet, the Food Network, and even Scott Wright’s favorites, those malevolent, Machiavellian misanthropes at Fox News. But just to avoid discord amongst the brethren, we’ll stick with the CNN version of Oscar’s story, which was almost identical to Fox’s version, except that it failed to mention that the cat was a registered Republican, and in fact a firm Huckabee supporter. (And now that football season is here, we all know the importance of having our Huckabees firmly supported.) Ah, politics. But I digress; I do that a lot.

"Oscar the cat," the July 30 CNN Internet report said, "seems to have an uncanny knack for predicting when nursing home patients are going to die, by curling up next to them during their final hours."

The report went on to say that Oscar was "adopted as a kitten and grew up in a third-floor dementia unit" at the Steere nursing facility.

"After about six months, the staff noticed Oscar would make his own rounds, just like the doctors and nurses. He’d sniff and observe patients, then sit beside people who would wind up dying in a few hours." Make rounds, sniff and observe, just like your regular medical personnel.

Hang on, there’s more:

"Oscar is better at predicting death than the people who work there, said Dr. Joan Teno of Brown University, who treats patients at the nursing home and is an expert on care for the terminally ill." According to the report, "His accuracy, observed in 25 cases, has led the staff to call family members once he has chosen someone. It usually means that the patient has less than four hours to live."

There was a case where Dr. Teno observed a patient whom she was sure was near death, but Oscar refused to stay inside the woman’s room. Neither catnip nor tuna could induce him to stay. It appeared as though Oscar had finally misfired, but the woman was not ready to go yet. Finally, after about ten hours, Oscar returned, offered his prognosis, assumed his regular bedside position, and within two hours she passed away. I do not believe that she suffered a sneezing fit before she went, either. No, Dr. Teno was convinced that Oscar did not cause her death, only predicted it. He was a medical phenomenon.

The CNN report even mentioned that "Oscar recently received a wall plaque publicly commending his ‘compassionate hospice care.’" Gosh, it was all so wonderful.

Or was it? When I first heard about Oscar, something amidst all the flowery feline fawning bothered me. If I were a nursing home patient, and were to see that flea-infested angel of death pacing the halls with its tail switching ominously, stopping occasionally to peer into a room, it would make me uncomfortable. I would request a slingshot. I told my wife that I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Oscar came to a bad end. "Somebody," I told her, "is gonna whack that cat with a bedpan."

Well, imagine just how prescient I thought I’d been when I encountered the following press release on several Internet websites:

Psychic Cat Found Dead

PROVIDENCE, RI – Oscar, the nursing home cat who could seemingly sense the impending death of patients, was found dead early yesterday. The cat gained recent notoriety when reports of his ability to detect the impending death of the terminally ill became public ...

Officials at the facility would not reveal the cause of death, but did acknowledge rumors that the cat was becoming increasingly unpopular among the patients. One knowledgeable source – who agreed to speak with us on the condition of anonymity – confirmed increasing animosity toward the animal, and that a dented bedpan was found near the body.

According to our source, the recent publicity of Oscar’s unique insight spread quickly throughout the facility. Patients in the terminal ward became increasingly upset at the sight of the cat, prompting administrators to move Oscar to another floor. After an unexpected death on that floor, Oscar quickly became quite unwelcome there, too. "Good riddance," said patient Gertrude Feinman, when told of the cat’s demise. "It would just sit there and stare at you – with this look on his face like ‘you’re next.’"

A spokesman for the home downplayed any immediate talk of foul play. "We don’t want to jump to any conclusions," said Ronald Kitzmiller, Director of Operations at the facility. "We’ll wait for the coroner’s report, and then decide if any legal action is warranted."

The story of Oscar’s untimely death was all over the Internet, and sages like me were moralizing about it. "It’s just as well," we said. "Today, cats diagnosing patients in nursing homes, tomorrow, goats performing orthodontic surgery! Where would it all end?" Boy, did we miss the boat.

Something about that second press release smelled fishy. Maybe it was the all too convenient dented bedpan, or maybe it was the part about a coroner investigating the death of a cat. I tracked the story down, and it originated on "The Daily Redundancy" website, which bills itself as "The Standard of Excellence in Pseudojournalism." It was a spoof. Satire, sort of.

Yes, Oscar the Death Cat is still alive, and he still stalks the halls of that Rhode Island nursing home, practicing medicine without a license.

So you may rest easy, now. Assuming, of course, that you don’t have a psychic house cat, with a tiny stethoscope dangling from his flea collar, following you around.