猫进了人家以后，惊魂未定，在人家床上拉了好大一泡
欲盖弥彰
我抱着宝宝, 拎着他的午餐合子, 肩上的换洗衣服被单到处乱掉, 比她狼狈多了. 
这个，因为在养猫的论坛上混的久了，学到些养猫的皮毛。
猫是不能吃有盐分的食物的，据说她的生理结构不能承受盐带来的负担，年纪稍长些容易得泌尿系统的病。还有，鸡鸭骨也是不建议给猫吃的，因为鸡鸭骨比较软，可能猫嚼几下能大概吞下去，但这样咬成小段的鸡鸭骨很容易对猫的肠胃造成物理损伤。
当然我们小时候养猫都是很粗的半放养方式，很多猫吃着菜汤拌饭已经很满足了，何况肉骨头。但在我记忆中，因为小时候的猫都是半放养方式，大多数猫都不能寿终正寝，多是吃了有老鼠药的老鼠或者其他不明食物早早地就走了，所以并没有太多机会看到盐对成年老年猫的健康危害。
除了健康的猫粮外，广受猫猫欢迎又方便的食物是微波小肉，用鸡胸肉，不要加盐，在微波炉里转熟，猫猫会为之疯狂的。大概是热的食物散发出的香气让猫猫不能自已。给猫吃鱼，清蒸清蒸不加盐就好了。
罗嗦了这么多，当然养猫方式还是要看个人意愿。
猫是不能吃有盐分的食物的，据说她的生理结构不能承受盐带来的负担，年纪稍长些容易得泌尿系统的病。还有，鸡鸭骨也是不建议给猫吃的，因为鸡鸭骨比较软，可能猫嚼几下能大概吞下去，但这样咬成小段的鸡鸭骨很容易对猫的肠胃造成物理损伤。
当然我们小时候养猫都是很粗的半放养方式，很多猫吃着菜汤拌饭已经很满足了，何况肉骨头。但在我记忆中，因为小时候的猫都是半放养方式，大多数猫都不能寿终正寝，多是吃了有老鼠药的老鼠或者其他不明食物早早地就走了，所以并没有太多机会看到盐对成年老年猫的健康危害。
除了健康的猫粮外，广受猫猫欢迎又方便的食物是微波小肉，用鸡胸肉，不要加盐，在微波炉里转熟，猫猫会为之疯狂的。大概是热的食物散发出的香气让猫猫不能自已。给猫吃鱼，清蒸清蒸不加盐就好了。
罗嗦了这么多，当然养猫方式还是要看个人意愿。
我对美国的猫粮甚持怀疑态度――我以前从来没有见过超重肥胖的猫狗，一直到见到一些美国猫。这些超重的猫还为数不少。
以前家里养的猫吃鱼、饭、鸡肝。那时候并不知道，我妈也是给加盐的。我们的猫一直是吃鸡肝的，吃了十几年。后来口味转刁，要吃香肠和梳打饼。就这样，也活了十八岁。胖是胖的，可没到胖成个沙包的地步。我妈很宠猫，听不得它喵喵叫着要东西吃，一要就给。可着猫吃，也没有那么胖。
决定以后自己养猫，也煮饭给它吃。鸡肉鱼肉鸡肝
；给点儿猫草嚼嚼。可怜我家的猫以前是嚼扫帚的。
以前家里养的猫吃鱼、饭、鸡肝。那时候并不知道，我妈也是给加盐的。我们的猫一直是吃鸡肝的，吃了十几年。后来口味转刁，要吃香肠和梳打饼。就这样，也活了十八岁。胖是胖的，可没到胖成个沙包的地步。我妈很宠猫，听不得它喵喵叫着要东西吃，一要就给。可着猫吃，也没有那么胖。
决定以后自己养猫，也煮饭给它吃。鸡肉鱼肉鸡肝
；给点儿猫草嚼嚼。可怜我家的猫以前是嚼扫帚的。http://harps.yculblog.com
搬家了搬家了
搬家了搬家了
真是不好意思，我又来罗嗦了 
念在我对猫的一片痴心，大家不要怪我。
鸡肝吃太多对猫也是不好的。
这是在网上搜的：
猫是典型的肉食动物，喜欢有腥味的食物，鸡肝正合它们的胃口；另外由于猫的牙齿结构很特别，不适合吃太难咀嚼的食物，所以喜欢松软或酥脆的口感，松软易嚼的鸡肝猫咪自然很喜欢。不过需要注意的是鸡肝中含有大量的维生素A，是猫正常需要的3倍多，因为猫咪自身无法代谢鸡肝所含的大量维生素A，长期吃鸡肝，会出现严重缺钙、关节变形等维生素A中毒症状。
－－有一些宠物主人说“我的小动物一直吃鸡肝，好几年了，没觉得有什么不好啊！”到底该不该吃鸡肝，鸡肝又有什么好处和坏处呢？
鸡肝主要含有蛋白质、脂肪、碳水化合物、维生素A、维生素D、磷等成分，营养价值高、适口性好，且有独特的腥味，为犬猫所喜爱。但若长期吃肝，而且单一吃肝则会出现一些疾病。
肥胖――由于鸡肝富含脂肪和碳水化合物，故长期吃肝的犬猫能量过剩会引起肥胖，太胖就会增加糖尿病、胰腺炎、心血管疾病的发病率。
皮肤瘙痒――鸡饲料中多有促生长剂，这些化学物质大多经肝代谢，故长期吃鸡肝会引起食物过敏或慢性蓄积性中毒而容易引发皮肤病。
维生素A中毒――鸡肝含大量的维生素A，若用鸡肝拌胡萝卜饲喂会使犬的维生素A过量，不能及时排出就会造成维生素A蓄积性中毒，引起疼痛、跛行和牙齿脱落等疾病。
缺钙――由于肝含磷高而含钙低，同时磷对钙的吸收又有抑制作用，长期吃肝会导致机体钙的缺乏，造成幼年犬猫的佝偻病或成年犬猫的软骨病。
出血――机体的凝血需要钙的参与，若犬猫长期吃肝造成缺钙则会引起凝血功能障碍，出现慢性出血或急性出血不容易止血。
产后抽搐――长期吃肝的犬猫在产后由于哺乳造成钙的大量流失，而本身储备的钙又很少，所以很容易出现低血钙，表现为喘气、流涎、抽搐、四肢强直。若治疗不及时则可能会引起死亡。
虽说长期吃肝有种种弊端，但并不是说鸡肝绝对不能吃。在某些情况下，鸡肝是犬猫的一种好补品：
首先，容易感冒和腹泻的犬猫可利用鸡肝维生素A含量高这一特点来维持呼吸道和消化道上皮细胞的完整性，以增强机体抵抗力。
第二，对于食欲差或重病无食欲的犬猫，可利用鸡肝良好的适口性来刺激食欲，逐步恢复消化道功能。
第三，对于营养差或体质瘦弱的犬猫，鸡肝中蛋白质含量高的特性可以让它们增加营养、增强体质
http://bbs.movshow.com/archiver/?tid-20575.html
同样道理，医生也会提醒孕妇不要吃太多的动物肝脏。
念在我对猫的一片痴心，大家不要怪我。鸡肝吃太多对猫也是不好的。
这是在网上搜的：
猫是典型的肉食动物，喜欢有腥味的食物，鸡肝正合它们的胃口；另外由于猫的牙齿结构很特别，不适合吃太难咀嚼的食物，所以喜欢松软或酥脆的口感，松软易嚼的鸡肝猫咪自然很喜欢。不过需要注意的是鸡肝中含有大量的维生素A，是猫正常需要的3倍多，因为猫咪自身无法代谢鸡肝所含的大量维生素A，长期吃鸡肝，会出现严重缺钙、关节变形等维生素A中毒症状。
－－有一些宠物主人说“我的小动物一直吃鸡肝，好几年了，没觉得有什么不好啊！”到底该不该吃鸡肝，鸡肝又有什么好处和坏处呢？
鸡肝主要含有蛋白质、脂肪、碳水化合物、维生素A、维生素D、磷等成分，营养价值高、适口性好，且有独特的腥味，为犬猫所喜爱。但若长期吃肝，而且单一吃肝则会出现一些疾病。
肥胖――由于鸡肝富含脂肪和碳水化合物，故长期吃肝的犬猫能量过剩会引起肥胖，太胖就会增加糖尿病、胰腺炎、心血管疾病的发病率。
皮肤瘙痒――鸡饲料中多有促生长剂，这些化学物质大多经肝代谢，故长期吃鸡肝会引起食物过敏或慢性蓄积性中毒而容易引发皮肤病。
维生素A中毒――鸡肝含大量的维生素A，若用鸡肝拌胡萝卜饲喂会使犬的维生素A过量，不能及时排出就会造成维生素A蓄积性中毒，引起疼痛、跛行和牙齿脱落等疾病。
缺钙――由于肝含磷高而含钙低，同时磷对钙的吸收又有抑制作用，长期吃肝会导致机体钙的缺乏，造成幼年犬猫的佝偻病或成年犬猫的软骨病。
出血――机体的凝血需要钙的参与，若犬猫长期吃肝造成缺钙则会引起凝血功能障碍，出现慢性出血或急性出血不容易止血。
产后抽搐――长期吃肝的犬猫在产后由于哺乳造成钙的大量流失，而本身储备的钙又很少，所以很容易出现低血钙，表现为喘气、流涎、抽搐、四肢强直。若治疗不及时则可能会引起死亡。
虽说长期吃肝有种种弊端，但并不是说鸡肝绝对不能吃。在某些情况下，鸡肝是犬猫的一种好补品：
首先，容易感冒和腹泻的犬猫可利用鸡肝维生素A含量高这一特点来维持呼吸道和消化道上皮细胞的完整性，以增强机体抵抗力。
第二，对于食欲差或重病无食欲的犬猫，可利用鸡肝良好的适口性来刺激食欲，逐步恢复消化道功能。
第三，对于营养差或体质瘦弱的犬猫，鸡肝中蛋白质含量高的特性可以让它们增加营养、增强体质
http://bbs.movshow.com/archiver/?tid-20575.html
同样道理，医生也会提醒孕妇不要吃太多的动物肝脏。
喜悦猫粮，就是friskies，各超市都很常见，口碑不错且相对其他口碑好的猫粮便宜些。Knowing wrote:那应该给他们吃什么？那种猫粮好？
另外一种常见的伟嘉口碑不怎么好，据说是容易引起猫咪尿结石之类的病。
不过对于火焰说的，猫粮会让猫咪增肥我不是很了解。
网上的各种猫粮评价：
http://bbs.movshow.com/archiver/?tid-104866.html
晕，刚才搜帖过程中，无意中发现喜悦也不怎么好。改变了我一贯的印象。
http://www.szcat.org/club/frame.php?fra ... id%3D85173
难道只能自己动手做猫食了吗？
这年头，人吃的都不安全了，猫也难逃此劫啊。
对了，现在的猫普遍发福的原因大概是kc，以前的猫哪儿有这样的经历啊。
我下午敲了一大段儿结果都不见了，气死了。
我们人都喂了，猫是小菜一碟，又不挑嘴 。鸡肉、鸡肝、玉米，豌豆。。。一样煮一锅，分成小包冻起来吃的时候一化就是了。我是猜的哈，猫可能爱吃玉米。我以前的猫就爱吃玉米。这边的人类罐头速冻微波食物都净是反式脂肪酸，各种人造产品，不信动物食品倒成了全天然鱼肉了。我猜里边也少不了反式脂肪酸。食肉类多吃点肉和胆固醇关系还不大，吃多了反式脂肪酸，估计它们代谢不了，全变成一个一个小油滴存起来。有人在显微镜下看过脂肪细胞么？一个挨一个的大泡，想想都很恶心。
我经常在柚子网上看猫，有些猫胖得四脚都快不挨地了，怪可怜的。
以前猫罐头还是稀罕物儿的时候，我爸去美国开会，给买了两个回来。开了一个，我家的猫闻了半天，拿爪子在地上挠了挠，走开了。我妈觉得怪可惜，拿去给邻居家的猫吃。她一进门邻居家的猫就扑到腿上了，撕都撕不下来。这猫和猫真是不一样啊 。后来我的猫是十七岁时候死的。从它十三岁以后，来我们家的人都说：‘哟这老猫还活着哪！”我就不太待见：这怎么说话呢这是！ 
我们人都喂了，猫是小菜一碟，又不挑嘴
。鸡肉、鸡肝、玉米，豌豆。。。一样煮一锅，分成小包冻起来吃的时候一化就是了。我是猜的哈，猫可能爱吃玉米。我以前的猫就爱吃玉米。这边的人类罐头速冻微波食物都净是反式脂肪酸，各种人造产品，不信动物食品倒成了全天然鱼肉了。我猜里边也少不了反式脂肪酸。食肉类多吃点肉和胆固醇关系还不大，吃多了反式脂肪酸，估计它们代谢不了，全变成一个一个小油滴存起来。有人在显微镜下看过脂肪细胞么？一个挨一个的大泡，想想都很恶心。我经常在柚子网上看猫，有些猫胖得四脚都快不挨地了，怪可怜的。
以前猫罐头还是稀罕物儿的时候，我爸去美国开会，给买了两个回来。开了一个，我家的猫闻了半天，拿爪子在地上挠了挠，走开了。我妈觉得怪可惜，拿去给邻居家的猫吃。她一进门邻居家的猫就扑到腿上了，撕都撕不下来。这猫和猫真是不一样啊
。后来我的猫是十七岁时候死的。从它十三岁以后，来我们家的人都说：‘哟这老猫还活着哪！”我就不太待见：这怎么说话呢这是！ http://harps.yculblog.com
搬家了搬家了
搬家了搬家了
那个,潜水日久,说到猫的话题终于有勇气出来吐个泡泡,贴个我家少爷的大头照
这位小朋友刚刚过了3岁大寿,前两天去兽医处例行检查兼打一年一度的免疫针时被大夫表扬:体形很好!要继续保持!盖因现在肥猫太多,肥胖带来的健康问题也很多的说^^^^^
我们在国内(北京),主要吃法国皇家猫粮,这个牌子算中档吧,种类分的很细,换毛季吃吐毛球配方的,平常吃除牙结石的配方或者室内猫专用配方;另外掺着吃冠能的猫粮,这个号称是用天然维生素E作防腐剂的,成分也更天然一些,可惜适口性一般,猫咪不爱吃
更专业的介绍猫粮的帖子请看这里:
http://www.catbbs.net/dongwu/dispbbs.as ... 105&page=2
这位小朋友刚刚过了3岁大寿,前两天去兽医处例行检查兼打一年一度的免疫针时被大夫表扬:体形很好!要继续保持!盖因现在肥猫太多,肥胖带来的健康问题也很多的说^^^^^
我们在国内(北京),主要吃法国皇家猫粮,这个牌子算中档吧,种类分的很细,换毛季吃吐毛球配方的,平常吃除牙结石的配方或者室内猫专用配方;另外掺着吃冠能的猫粮,这个号称是用天然维生素E作防腐剂的,成分也更天然一些,可惜适口性一般,猫咪不爱吃
更专业的介绍猫粮的帖子请看这里:
http://www.catbbs.net/dongwu/dispbbs.as ... 105&page=2
现在是清如水明如镜的秋天
我们真的是有文化滴 
……从小就会惆怅地看着窗外，留给我们一个背影，巨有气质的样子……
大眼睛里像有千言万语
更多照片请看
http://winniewei.yculblog.com/post.1740238.html
猫粮成分的问题一直众说纷纭，我们在国内，选择也不是那么多，大多数猫咪只有伟嘉可吃――据说时间长了泌尿系统会出问题
KOWNING家的三妮不吃鸡胸挺可惜的，因为这个做起来真的很容易，楼上大家说的微波，或者隔水蒸，都很方便。是不是你给她吃一整块的？最好要剪成猫粮大小的小块，方便进食。我现在用这个来代替罐头，一周做一到两次给少爷小姐改善伙食，有时做白灼虾也分给他们吃，当然是不沾调料的。想来想去，就算成分没有问题，罐头里总还是有防腐剂啊
还有一种说法，不知道是不是猫粮制造商们编造出来的，说是肉类、鱼虾等软食不像硬的猫粮那样能清洁他们的牙齿，时间长了对牙齿和口腔卫生不好
所以火焰如果以后养猫了天天做猫饭的话还要想个办法给他刷牙，哈哈哈哈
……从小就会惆怅地看着窗外，留给我们一个背影，巨有气质的样子……大眼睛里像有千言万语
更多照片请看
http://winniewei.yculblog.com/post.1740238.html猫粮成分的问题一直众说纷纭，我们在国内，选择也不是那么多，大多数猫咪只有伟嘉可吃――据说时间长了泌尿系统会出问题
KOWNING家的三妮不吃鸡胸挺可惜的，因为这个做起来真的很容易，楼上大家说的微波，或者隔水蒸，都很方便。是不是你给她吃一整块的？最好要剪成猫粮大小的小块，方便进食。我现在用这个来代替罐头，一周做一到两次给少爷小姐改善伙食，有时做白灼虾也分给他们吃，当然是不沾调料的。想来想去，就算成分没有问题，罐头里总还是有防腐剂啊
还有一种说法，不知道是不是猫粮制造商们编造出来的，说是肉类、鱼虾等软食不像硬的猫粮那样能清洁他们的牙齿，时间长了对牙齿和口腔卫生不好
所以火焰如果以后养猫了天天做猫饭的话还要想个办法给他刷牙，哈哈哈哈现在是清如水明如镜的秋天
Oscar the Cat
It's so amazing!
http://content.nejm.org/cgi/content/full/357/4/328
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 Mrs. 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 her 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 says "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 wing first, along the way sidestepping Mr. S., who is slumped over on a couch in the hallway. With lips slightly pursed, he snores peacefully ― perhaps blissfully unaware of where he 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 nurse's aide carrying dirty linens. "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 takes no notice of the woman and leaps up onto the 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 whether Mrs. T. is uncomfortable 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 final 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 beside 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 called to deliver last rites. And still, Oscar has not budged, instead purring and gently nuzzling Mrs. K. A young grandson asks 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 engraved a 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 awhile.
Note: Since he was adopted by staff members as a kitten, Oscar the Cat has had an uncanny ability to predict when residents are about to die. Thus far, he has presided over the deaths of more than 25 residents on the third floor of Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Providence, Rhode Island. His mere presence at the bedside is viewed by physicians and nursing home staff as an almost absolute indicator of impending death, allowing staff members to adequately notify families. Oscar has also provided companionship to those who would otherwise have died alone. For his work, he is highly regarded by the physicians and staff at Steere House and by the families of the residents whom he serves.
http://content.nejm.org/cgi/content/full/357/4/328
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 Mrs. 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 her 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 says "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 wing first, along the way sidestepping Mr. S., who is slumped over on a couch in the hallway. With lips slightly pursed, he snores peacefully ― perhaps blissfully unaware of where he 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 nurse's aide carrying dirty linens. "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 takes no notice of the woman and leaps up onto the 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 whether Mrs. T. is uncomfortable 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 final 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 beside 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 called to deliver last rites. And still, Oscar has not budged, instead purring and gently nuzzling Mrs. K. A young grandson asks 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 engraved a 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 awhile.
Note: Since he was adopted by staff members as a kitten, Oscar the Cat has had an uncanny ability to predict when residents are about to die. Thus far, he has presided over the deaths of more than 25 residents on the third floor of Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Providence, Rhode Island. His mere presence at the bedside is viewed by physicians and nursing home staff as an almost absolute indicator of impending death, allowing staff members to adequately notify families. Oscar has also provided companionship to those who would otherwise have died alone. For his work, he is highly regarded by the physicians and staff at Steere House and by the families of the residents whom he serves.