This just in from Twice Sold Tales' queen Jamie:

Dear Sir: George, the cat who has been hanging out on Broadway for the last 15 years, died last week. This is the cat who crosses the street in the crosswalk, waiting for the light; the tuxedo cat who was very fat, and begged food off of everybody in the early mornings in front of the Vivace stand and who used to sit on a chair all day in the hair salon next door. The best cat ever; the smartest cat ever. Died of diabetes. This cat loved very person; hated all dogs. Had scars from taking on the wrong dog. The only cat more popular than my cats. I cried when I heard he was gone. He was incredible: he owned the street. He is irreplaceable.

Sad he's gone, but any cat that can inspire such a eulogy lived a good effing life.