06/22/2026
AvaGrace 🌈🐾
End of Watch: June 17, 2026, 5:30 PM
Age: Timeless
AvaGrace spent most of her life on the streets until just over a year ago.
On May 31, 2025, AvaGrace came inside. She was thin and weak. Her coat was sparse and brittle. Kind community members had fed her for at least 14 years, but nobody knows how old she was when they first met her.
She endured hard winters, scorching summers, blizzards, hurricanes, and the loss of friends and family. She was a warrior princess.
Once inside, she blossomed. Her beautiful dilute tortie coat grew back, soft as cotton. She regained her weight and found joy in her favorite napping spots and her best friends. Gus became her bodyguard, cuddle buddy, and confidant. AvaGrace was a fighter right up to her last breath.
On Saturday, June 13, she stopped wanting to eat. She was vomiting and lethargic. The vet came to examine her. I syringe-fed her, but she couldn’t keep anything down. Her bloodwork was unremarkable, but her body temperature was below 100 degrees. She would only drink small amounts of water, and even that wouldn’t stay down.
She received anti-nausea medication, fluids, and B12 injections, but nothing helped.
I had separated her from the others so I could monitor her closely and keep her comfortable on a heating pad. When she didn’t respond to treatment, the feeling in my stomach became impossible to ignore. I knew.
I moved her back in with her friends.
She immediately started purring.
She was with her family, and that was all she wanted.
Gus never left her side. Every time she got up, he was right there beside her. I took her outside onto the deck so she could feel the fresh air and listen to the birds. She was happy. But nothing we tried could change the outcome.
She never wanted to eat again, and her weight dropped rapidly. We don’t know why. The vet said it could simply have been old age or an undetected cancer, but she gently told us what our hearts already knew: it was time.
AvaGrace was likely in her upper teens. She couldn’t hear much anymore. Her vision was failing. She had dementia and slept most of the day. But when she was awake, she made sure everyone knew when it was dinner time. Her meow was loud, demanding, and impossible to ignore.
Sometimes she would become confused and start crying out. I would run to find her, scoop her up, and hold her close. She learned to love cuddles and kisses. She knew she was safe. She knew she was loved.
She knew she was our queen bee. ❤️
AvaGrace passed peacefully in my arms, surrounded by her friends, who watched over her as she began her journey to earn her wings. 🪽
Last week was a hard one. Losing so many in such a short time leaves an ache that words can’t fully express.
But I am so grateful for the blessing of this tiny spitfire.
I have no doubt she’s raising a little Cain in Heaven already. 🥰
After surviving a lifetime outdoors, AvaGrace spent her final year exactly as she deserved—safe, loved, cherished, and home.
Save a seat for me at the table, precious girl. 🐾❤️🌈
I’ll see you again someday.
Until then, run free, sweet AvaGrace.
