You know how sometimes TV characters are made to cross over from one show to another? Characters crossed over in the late ‘90s, for instance, within a pair of David E. Kelley programs, Ally McBeal and The Practice. Or stretching further back in TV-land time, Happy Days folks appeared on Laverne & Shirley and vice versa. Then there are the various sub-incarnations of Law & Order with crossover; you get the idea.
This week, in an exciting summer innovation!, the Friday Animal Blog is crossing over with a column of mine at the online literary magazine Bookslut.com. I admit, the analogy is imperfect, because what I’m doing is a straightforward steal, reprising my July 5th Bookslut column because I think my blog readers will be as captivated as I was by a book about Oscar, the famous nursing-home cat who is able to predict the imminent death of elderly residents.
I write about not only David Dosa’s book on Oscar, but also on a second book as well, The Bittersweet Season by Jane Gross. Taken together this pair of books tackles terribly challenging issues of end-of-life care that face the families of dementia patients and other elderly people.
But here, today? Oscar’s the star. He’s an unusually sensitive cat, yet his actions fit on a continuum of what some of my cats, and the cats of friends, have done in exhibiting acute awareness and caring to family members. Through his actions, Oscar has brought not fear but pure calm comfort to the loved ones of nursing-home residents.
Read my column here:
Bookslut
I’d be interested to know your own responses to Oscar’s behavior— and, how does he do it?
Comments
I could tell you about the cats in my life who have fallen down to my chest when I've been mourning ... They've laid sprawling, kneading, licking my face, insisting on my own presence with theirs ...
One of my beloved cats, who died four years ago, was in the care of my vet ... My then-husband and I were summoned one evening to discuss immediate euthanasia. My husband and our vet were for it at the time; I was not. Don't ask how ... but I *knew* it was not her time. I leaned as much as I could of me into her container, put my hands on her, and *willed* her life force to surge. She rallied. She bunted my hand, and then my face. Our vet was astonished. She put a little bit of food down for our girl, who ate it. Our baby came home about three days later, and lived for another three months.
So many mysteries ...