Obituaries

Graybie, beloved gray cat, certified menace, and reigning queen of selective affection, passed away peacefully at the distinguished age of 20. A true lady of refinement (on her own terms only), Graybie spent her two decades on Earth perfecting the art of dramatic stares, silent judgment, and sudden bursts of affection that felt like winning the feline lottery.

Known for being “mean, but sweet to her owners,” Graybie maintained an exclusive inner circle of humans she allowed to adore her. To everyone else, she offered her signature glare—a look that said, “You may gaze upon me, but do not touch me.” Yet to her chosen few, she was tender, snuggly, and occasionally willing to share the warmth of her purrs…when the mood struck.

Graybie was a real lady. She carried herself with poise, elegance, and the kind of confidence only a 20-year-old cat who has seen everything can have. She lived her life with dignity: never letting a tail swish go to waste, never tolerating nonsense, and never apologizing for who she was.

She leaves behind a household forever marked by her sass, her sweetness, and the little paw-shaped dents she pressed into bed covers, hearts, and furniture alike. Her family takes comfort in knowing that somewhere over the rainbow bridge, she is bossing around angels, demanding the softest clouds, and swatting at sunbeams with impeccable ladylike precision.

Rest in peace, Graybie. You were spicy, you were sweet, you were unforgettable—and you were perfect.