Vale Johnson April 1997 - August 2006

Dear Johnson was partial to footwear
He sought out the tiniest trace
Of leather or vinyl he didn’t care
It was just where he rested his face
Now if you were to label him a fetishist
Your claim would be fiction not fact
For you cannot attribute perversion
To an ordinary Black and White cat...

Our Johnson we found while out riding
Indeed it was through Johnson Park
He came home all snuggled and cosy
In a place that was comfy and dark
Now if you were to start to imagine
Some seedy hotel or the like
You’d be quite wrong, in fact it was Patrick’s
Demin shirt worn while riding his bike

Being full of honest integrity
We put posters up all round the place
With our number and personal details
Describing Johnson R’s gorgeous face
I sat by the phone for a fortnight
Hoped and prayed that it may never ring
For by now I was hopelessly smitten
With this woolly young black and white thing

Dear Johnson had eyes that were special
The colour of aquamarine
Luminous, canny and steady
The best eyes you ever have seen
He could stare down the gate and the back fence
He could gaze in a manner most sage
With an IQ that often drew comment
Such a gifted young cat for his age

In the end t’was a tumor that got him
Though he sought out good shoes till the end
The cutest most gormless companion
My best beloved mog friend
Dear Johnson was partial to footwear
He sought out the tiniest trace
Of leather or vinyl he didn’t care
It was just where he rested his face