Raleigh, N.C. ? When Anna Ruth Jones died in Durham, N.C., last week, her obituary listed a handful of cousins and special friends. But the most prominent survivor, the only one described as “cherished,” was Sir Rufus of Iredell, her black and white cat.

The feline’s elevation to grieving relative represents a new step for household pets across the state — special mentions in notice of their owners’ passing.

On a single day last week, dogs and cats merited a spot in five News & Observer obituaries — more than a quarter of that day’s total. Buzzy the canine pal. Beloved dog Sport. Simba. Trixie. Mikey. And Sir Rufus.

“That was her child,” said Jones’ neighbor Perry Norris, describing the cat’s royal air. “He was a tuxedo type.”

Regard for pets has steadily grown to the point where some enjoy health insurance benefits. Lawyers now build careers around defending furry clients. And books can be bought explaining how to name a pet executor, along with instructions for obtaining a pet’s living will.

New York hotel maven Leona Helmsley famously left $12 million to her Maltese, Trouble. In North Carolina, High Point publisher Randall B. Terry bequeathed an estimated $1 million to the care of his six golden retrievers.

For Deborah Bowen, a social work professor at UNC-Wilmington, mention in obits is a natural shift. As society has become isolated by computers, cable television, job transfers and 50-hour work weeks, pets fill a void too wide for busy humans, said Bowen, author of “A Good Friend for Bad Times: Helping Others Through Grief.”

Look at the way medicine for animals has changed, she argued. Families routinely pay vet bills that top $1,000, getting treatment once reserved for humans. It’s natural, she said, that the same regard would extend to death — regardless of who’s in the casket.

“If the pet survives you, you put the pet in the obit,” Bowen said. “There is that sense of loss for animals, and there is an adjustment. Dogs will grieve the loss of another dog in the house so much that they won’t eat.”

And in New Hampshire, the former copy desk chief of the Portsmouth Herald sometimes saw cats and dogs listed by elderly women. But once, a few years back, he ran across a cancer victim who listed — in an obituary he penned himself — a pig as his first survivor.

“It threw us for a loop,” wrote Mike Sullivan, who has moved on to public relations and cannot recall the pig’s name. “It went down as one of the most bizarre obits I’d ever edited and published.”

But when Dorothy Strickland Johnson of Knightdale, N.C., died Jan. 7, her five pets made the obituary alongside her daughter, son and husband of 64 years.

Luke, a Llasa apso, was adopted when the Johnsons dealt with the pain of another daughter’s death. For a couple in their 80s, Luke provided a reason to push on and to remember.

“So now,” said Susan Johnson, their daughter, “my Dad and Luke will be going on their journey without my Mom.”

As she spoke, you could hear Luke barking in the background — a fellow relative speaking his piece.