Why you don’t want Oscar on your bed.

I have heard before about animals being psychic. Like horses going berserk before the arrival of a massive storm or Paul the Octopus continually selecting the winners of games during the World Cup Soccer.

Paul the Octopus
Gone to soon.
But yesterday morning, something caught my attention on the television. I had it on as background noise to try and over-ride the background noise that is my family, when a segment came on about animals that possessed a 6th sense.

In particular, this cat.

This cat lives on Rhode Island, more specifically at the Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Centre, a facility for the elderly and ill. His name is Oscar.

Oscar does the rounds each day. 

Over 25 times, Oscar has predicted the death of a patient, indicating that the time is nigh by curling up next to the soon to be deceased during their final hours.

Apparently Oscar is better at predicting death than the medical staff.

So what has this got to do with me?

I will tell you what is has got to do with me.

I think my cat Chuy might be trying to get in on the death prediction band wagon. You see, me and my oldest are suffering from some severe sore throat action which began last night. I went to bed and a few moments later, saw the door open up to the size of a cat and a few seconds later, I felt the weight of Chuy on my feet.

Chuy NEVER sleeps on my bed. WILLINGLY. EVER.

BUT he does like to stare at one particular spot on the wall for HOURS. He can also tell when you have opened the fridge, even if he is hanging with tiny Alicia the Mauler in the back ally.

I was not ready to die. I felt that I had not achieved all that is my destiny. So I removed Chuy from the room and closed the door. I spent the next few minutes listening to him head butt the door until eventually I put him in out into the living room.

This morning when I woke up, he was star-fished to the window’s flyscreen, looking in from the outside. Just staring. Fucking creepy.

Today I am feeling slightly better. Harry is not great and has taken the day off school. He is watching TV, sucking on lozenges. 

Interestingly enough, yesterday I predicted this balloon’s life expectancy,
which I called correctly at 7 seconds.

Do you have a psychic pet?
Or a psycho pet?