"...his numerous progeny prospers and thrives; And the village is proud of him in his decline..."

"...Old Deuteronomy sits in the street

He sits in the High Street on market day;

The bullocks may bellow, the sheep they may bleat,

But the dogs and the herdsmen will turn them away.

The cars and the lorries run over the kerb,

And the villagers put up a notice: ROAD CLOSED

So that nothing untoward may chance to disturb

Deuteronomy's rest when he feels so disposed...

...Old Deuteronomy lies on the floor

Of the fox and French Horn for his afternoon sleep;

And when the men say: `There's just time for one more,'

the landlady from her back parlour will peep And say:

`Now then, out you go, by the back door,

For Old Deuteronomy mustn't be woken

I'll have the police if there's any uproar'

And out they all shuffle, without a word spoken

The digestive repose of that feline's gastronomy must never be broken..."

Bud. This morning.

He's always had an old soul.

At 21 years old, he's officially reached Old Deuteronomy status.