My name is Lixia. I’m ten years old and I’m in the fifth grade.
My family is different from others.
Other kids have parents to send them to and fro, but I go home from school alone every day.
Mom has been hospitalized and Dad has never told me what Mom is sick with.
Because of work, Dad was unable to take me to school or fetch me from it.
It has become a habit for me to visit my mom at the hospital after school.
Luckily, the hospital was just ten minutes away from my school.
I would do my work beside her bed and grab dinner from the canteen to accompany her.
Half a semester passed with me stuck in that routine.
Sometimes, during dinner time, a fat languid cat would roam into the room.
I would offer it some of my own food.
Mom would just keep quiet and request that I clean up the floor after.
This fat cat would let me stroke it a little after it’s full.
It would even roll over and show me its belly to rub.
Whenever I play with the cat, Mom would correct my assignments by drawing circles on the errors.
After she was done, she would stash them in my bag and ask me to head home.
I would get Dad to look them through again.
Days passed simply.
One day, as I was about to leave the hospital after putting the cat down and carrying my backpack, a nurse stopped me at the exit.
Play with that fat cat less in the future, alright, little boy?
she said kindly, kneeling down slightly.
Why?
I asked curiously.
She looked around before answering,
Its name is Oscar and he’s a death kitty.
What’s that?
A death kitty can predict when a person is going to die,
she explained.
How?
Instead of answering, she got up and rushed off.
From that day onward, while I still feed the cat, I touched it lesser and lesser unless it rubbed its body against my calves, asking to be petted.
One day, the cat came into the room. I put a small piece of fish on the floor but it did not come over, and instead, jumped to the bed of an old man.
The fat cat curled up on his pillow and fell asleep soon after.
Everyone looked at the old man with a strange expression.
I was about to go pick the cat up but Mom stopped me.
She whispered to me,
Don’t disturb Oscar today.
I nodded and used a tissue paper to clean up the food.
As usual, Mom packed my bag and sent me on my way.
The cat was still sleeping peacefully by the old man’s pillow.
And the old man was writing something on a piece of paper.
Curious, I walked over to have a look. On the paper were closely packed words that looked more complicated than those I had learned in school.
What are you doing, eh?
I asked softly.
Mom quickly shouted,
Don’t be rude, Lixia!
I lowered my head in shame, but the old man simply ruffled my hair and smiled.
Oscar’s a good cat. Don’t bully it, alright?
As I was puzzling over his words, Mom added,
Go home now, boy.
Without a choice, I nodded and left the hospital.
The next day, the old man’s bed was empty.
Where did he go?
I asked.
You’ll know in the future,
Mom dismissed.
Oscar came into the room and walked around my legs, its long tail hooking around my calf.
Good boy. I’ll play with you after finishing my homework,
I said as I stroked it.
Amazingly, he listened and went aside for a nap.
I went to get dinner after finishing up.
I ate beef that day and gave Oscar the biggest piece.
He gobbled everything up happily.
I told Mom,
A nurse told me not to play with him and the old man from yesterday told me to treat him well.
What do you think of that?
Mom asked with a smile.
Oscar’s very cute,
I stated.
Do what you want then,
she encouraged.
I carried Oscar up and rubbed its belly as it stretched out comfortably on my lap, purring softly.
…
Three years later, junior high, second grade.
I started to grasp certain concepts and Mom’s body was weakening each day.
Oscar visited less frequently and each time it entered the room, I would carry it out.
Whenever it came over, however, I would still put half of my dinner outside the door for him to enjoy.
If he wanted to be petted, I would carry him out and do it.
I finally understood why the nurse told me to stay away from Oscar and why the old man had me treat him well.
Oscar really was a death kitty.
The patient that was lying on the bed he would jump onto would pass away the next day.
He hasn’t failed so far and chasing it away wouldn’t change anything.
Hey, Oscar. Don’t you jump on Mom’s bed, alright?
Oscar made a turn happily and meowed.
Do you hear me? Meow again if you understand.
Other than producing a low wheeze, it made no other sounds.
I rubbed his belly.
Clever, eh?
Oscar used his tail to bump my hand before strutting down the corridor gleefully.
…
Half a month later.
Oscar visited us again.
I carried him out and gave half of my food to him as usual.
He wasn’t interested in the food, however. He wanted to go into the room.
He howled a little when I tried stopping him.
Is someone going to go today?
I asked.
Oscar made a loud meow.
Looking at the four beds inside, I moved aside helplessly.
Oscar entered slowly and stopped before Mom’s bed before jumping on top of it and lying in a corner.
I dashed in and saw that Mom was crying.
He might be mistaken. It might not be true,
I said, extending my hands out to grab Oscar.
Mom stopped me.
Don’t. Give your father a call.
I stood motionless, not hearing her words.
Mom? Can I take him away?
Let him stay here. There’s nothing we can do. Chasing him away won’t change anything.
There’s no way at all?
I asked.
An old lady on the next bed spoke up.
This is his 63rd prediction and he hasn’t been wrong before.
Perhaps he’s just tired and wants to rest. I’ll carry him out. He must’ve made a mistake,
I repeated before grabbing hold of Oscar.
Oscar meowed again and struggled free before lying back down.
I was about to try again but Mom chided,
That’s enough, Lixia.
She fell into a coughing fit immediately after.
Frustrated, I gave Dad a call.
Upon hearing about Oscar, he put everything down at work and came over.
Half an hour passed.
Dad, Mom, and Oscar were in the room while I squatted outside.
My mind was blank.
Unable to control my emotions, tears started pouring down.
Frantic, I ran into the room and grabbed Oscar by force.
My sudden action shocked everyone in the room.
Oscar escaped my embrace and jumped onto my face.
With a loud meow, he clawed at my left eye, leaving a fresh cut just above my eyelid.
After that, he went back to my mom’s side and sat still like nothing had happened.
Blood dripped down my face and onto the white sheets.
I stared blankly at the ground as Dad came over to cover my left eye with a cotton pad.
He rushed me to the emergency room.
Seven stitches and a white gauze later, I was sent to the ward beside Mom’s and was told not to move about.
The doctor said I was lucky my eyeball wasn’t hurt, but an infection was still possible and I might have to stay in for the night.
Lying on the bed, I resisted the tears that were welling in my eyes, not wanting them to roll over my wound.
I did not sleep that night.
Dad was the one who informed me the next day when Mom left.
