The one thing I want, when I eventually grow up enough to have a place of my own (instead of living like common people and renting a flat above a shop) is a cat, writes our News Blogger David Burrow.

I love cats. The only animals intelligent enough to put their tail up when you’re stroking them so your hand doesn’t fall off their back.

What I DON’T want is a cat like Oscar, resident at a nursing home in Providence, Rhode Island. He’s like something out of a Stephen King novel.

Oscar, it seems, has a happy (not quite sure that’s the right word) knack of knowing when people are about to shuffle off this mortal coil. The predictive pussycat curls up to residents in their final hours.

Having him become your bed fellow normally means you’ve only got four hours left. So that’s nice isn’t it?

Staff at the nursing home have, fortunately, stopped short of dressing him in a black cowl and strapping a tiny little scythe to his side. And fortunately, no joker has bought in little toy replicas and stuck them on beds of people who are perfectly healthy.

But looking at the photograph of Oscar I’m not so sure he is predicting these people’s deaths as much as causing them. Did you see him? I mean, Lordy, if I woke up and that was staring at me I think my ticker would give up the ghost as well.

Dr Joan Teno became convinced of Oscar’s talent when he made his 13th correct call. Because obviously 12 could still just be coincidence.

According to one quote, Oscar “doesn’t make too many mistakes”.

DOESN’T MAKE TOO MANY MISTAKES?!?! Surely one is too many.

Imagine Oscar snuggling up next to you: “Oh God, I’ve got four hours to live. I need to revise my will, say my goodbyes, so many things, so little time. What? Oh. He made a mistake? Oh well, never mind, he doesn’t make too many.

I knew I shouldn’t have left this can of Whiskas in my bedside table.”