Last month, I cared for a 91-year-old hospice patient named John, who was dying of congestive heart failure. His wife had passed away two years prior, leaving him alone. He had long been unable to care for his 16-year-old pet dog, Pepper—a small, yappy dog with a rat-like appearance. Weeks earlier, Pepper had been taken to live with John's daughter, ten miles away, to ensure proper care.
I was called to see John after his condition deteriorated to the point that his doctor discharged him from the hospital to spend his final hours at home in comfort.
By then, John was comatose, unresponsive to his family, and clearly near the end. Only his son-in-law and I were in the house; the rest of the family kept vigil in their own homes, awaiting my call.
Suddenly, John opened his eyes, said "Come on, Pepper," and passed away.
Although expected, his death was so sudden and strange that we were stunned. Less than two minutes later, John's daughter called to tell us that Pepper had also died.