Moses came to the farm as a kitten — orange, wet, in a box by the road. Someone dumped him. Josiah found him. Brought to the barn. Sarah said: 'Another mouth.' Josiah said: 'He'll catch mice.' Sarah hmmphed. (Sarah always hmmphed. Then agreed.)
Moses caught mice. 3-5 per day. 365 days a year. 14 years. Math: 14 × 365 × 4 = roughly 20,000 mice. (Josiah didn't count. But if he had — he'd be impressed.)
Character
Moses didn't purr (beneath his dignity). Didn't sit on laps (not a dog). Didn't beg for food (caught his own). Came to the porch at 7:30 — lay on his step (third from bottom) — and lay there while Josiah watched sunset. Two old fellows: one human, one cat. Both silent. Both content.
When Moses was 12, the vet (English, Dr. Wilson — that one) said: 'Cat has arthritis. Can give pills.' Josiah gave them. Moses ate the pill, looked at Josiah with contempt, and went to catch mice.
Moses is 14 now. Catches fewer mice (3 per week, not day). Sleeps more. Step — same (third). Sunset — same. Josiah — same. The world isn't rushing.