She was 97, which is a good long life. And she was beloved. My mom, sister, and I read her novels - they were my first "adult" mysteries.
In honor of her I will pick up one that I haven't read: The Cat Who Had 60 Whiskers is now requested from my library. I will read it and wish (again) that I lived in a barn and that my cats were much more interesting than they are.
I have a head cold, so a glass of wine is out of the question, but I will have a cup of tea and toast her memory and her influence. We never met, and I haven't picked up a Cat Who...in years, but I would be lying if I said that she had no influence over me and my writing.