This true story is from a friend, which I relay to you.
It was summer time, and I woke up yet again, as it was hard to sleep on such a hot humid night. On my way to the kitchen I stopped to talk to my cat, like I always do when he's sleeping on the edge of the couch. After having "our" usual nightly conversation I asked him if he needed to go out. I turned to open the porch door to let him go out but he lay frozen to the spot. Knowing that he would wake me up very soon just to be let out I persisted, and repeatedly asked him, "Do you want to go out...out..out?". I asked the question one more time and a loud and very irritated voice shouted "NO!". I stood there frightened out of my mind, too afraid to move. I thought there was someone in the house, so I woke up my husband to make sure no one had broken in. I don't know if it was me but it seemed as if the air temperature dropped 20 degrees throughout the house. Yet the trees outside showed no sign of a breeze. My husband's search was fruitless. We were alone in our house. Something or someone, spoke to me that night and I know it wasn't the cat.
Since then I looked into the history of my house...it seems that back in 1955 a man died in my house. A great lover of cats, I've been told.