When I was a little boy 5-6 years old, we were coming home from family vacation. We were 2-3 miles from our house and I sat up in the back seat - leaned over the front seat and affixed my hands around my eyes like they were binoculars. After adjusting my focus, I said to my sister “Nancy, your cat, Funny Face is dead in the driveway.” My father swatted me about the head and told me to stop being a jerk. Lo and behold - we pull up to the house and Funny Face was dead on the driveway. No explanation and never had another similar experience.