Kate Allan - Oscar: The Bionic Cat

OSCAR: THE BIONIC CAT

Copyright Kate Allan, 2013

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Contents

Chapter 1

A Huge Dilemma

M ike and I are sitting side by side on the sofa. Not talking, not watching television, not listening to music. We are, however, thinking the same thing. What is going to become of our beloved cat? It is touch-and-go whether he is going to make it. It's unbearable to think that our little friend, so placid and loveable, is perilously close to having used up all of his nine lives after such a short time in our company. His destiny is in the hands of the vet who has our complete faith and trust, but whose job is so immense. We can do nothing but wait. No one knows what the outcome will be. This type of surgery has never been done before on this scale. Unanswered and almost unanswerable questions hang in the air. What will happen next? Will he recover properly? Should we even be putting him through this? Since he entered our lives two-and-a-half years ago, Oscar has made us laugh, kept us company, entertained us and comforted us. He has caused us anxiety, panic, concern, fear, distress, financial burden and worry. He has made us question our morals and search deep into our souls. We could never have foreseen what an incredible journey Oscar would go on, with us at his side. He is the most remarkable cat we have ever known.

We sit quietly waiting for news, which may not come today, or tomorrow, or even next week. It seems such a long way from when Oscar first came into our lives.

I must admit I was a little surprised when Mike Nolan, my partner, said he was thinking of getting two little black kittens, a girl and a boy. Although we did not live together, it seemed (to me at least) that we would at some point in the not-too-distant future. We had been dating for about a year and our relationship was going from strength to strength. I had two cats of my own, Buzz and Lou, and I wasn't convinced that when the time came to share, they would be able to tolerate any more cats in the household. They could not stand each other as it was.

I did not force the issue with Mike. He rented a house with Tracey, an old friend, and had two teenage children, Rachael and Christopher, who stayed with him every weekend. For him it was not just a case of upping sticks and moving into my flat. Similarly, I did not want to give up the home that I had worked so hard for and move in with Mike. The ideal solution would be for us to buy a place together, but it was still a little early in our relationship to make that commitment. I worried that if he got the kittens there would be a delay in making our relationship more permanent; but despite my inner reservations, I went along with him.

We sat at the table discussing names. T. S. Eliot wrote in Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats that cats must have three names: one for everyday use, one unique name that is theirs alone and one that only the cat itself knows. We were content just to decide on the everyday name. Not that there was a huge debate; Mike was already pretty set on what he favoured.

'I really like Oscar for a boy,' said Mike.

'Yes, it's quite majestic and masculine,' I replied.

'No, it's not that... I'd quite like to name a cat after that one in America. You know, the one who could sense when people were about to die. Oscar the Death Cat!' he added.

'Nice,' I said sarcastically. I did not know the story of this other Oscar, but when I found out more about it, it really was extraordinary. The cat has lived his whole life at the Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Providence, Rhode Island, and has become famous for predicting death. Each day, he patrols the corridors of the Advanced Dementia wing. He enters the patients' rooms and sniffs the air. If he settles on a bed, the doctors alert the patient's family as it means death is imminent. Oscar has curled up with over fifty patients in their dying hours. Rather than finding this unpleasantly morbid, many families have taken comfort from Oscar guiding their loved ones to heaven, and it has enabled them to gather at the bedside to be there for the final moments. One scientific explanation suggests that Oscar detects ketones, biochemicals given off by dying cells on the patient's breath. Others argue that it may just be that in the last hours of life, the patient typically becomes very still and the cat likes the lack of movement. Either way, Oscar stays with them until their final breath is drawn and he is routinely mentioned in obituaries and funeral services.

As for a girl's name, Mike decided on Poppy. It was a light-hearted, sweet name and went well with Oscar. I mused that had Mike and I been lucky enough to have children together, these may have been the names we would have chosen for them. Personally, as far as cats are concerned, I like non-human names like Cheese and Onion. Tracey used to have a cat called Seefa, which I thought was excellent. I was very much against trend though, with more and more people choosing 'human' names for their pets. A survey by PetPlan in 2009 showed that the top ten names for pets (from those that had taken out insurance policies with them), featured exclusively human names and crossed over significantly with popular baby names. Charlie, Ruby and Jack, for example, featured on both top ten lists. So at eight weeks old, Oscar and Poppy (both top ten names) were ready to be collected and taken to their new home.

They were both black, although Poppy had about six little white hairs on her throat. Oscar, who was fluffier, was entirely black.