Pawprints on My Heart: Furballs and Dogbreath

By John Shillito

This collection of poems contains some very personal verses and some which may have a broader appeal. If you have dogs or cats there should be something in here that raises a memory or a smile, perhaps a tear. The poems are a celebration of the benefits of furry lodgers, and a recognition of the heartaches they can bring.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Dec 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491886014

John Shillito

John Shillito lives in North Lincolnshire with Scooby the rescue doggy, and both are ruled by five moggies, the Furry Republic. Since his legs don’t work too well now, and the cats prefer him to keep his lap still, it leaves his hands and head free to wander, so he writes poems and stories. He wanted to collect his poems together for his grandkids, and this is the second book with the rest of his poems. But since the cats still won’t let him get up, who knows?

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© 2013 John Shillito. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/04/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8600-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8599-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8601-4 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

PAWPRINTS ON MY

HEART

all the following poems are the work of

John Shillito

The Poems have been arranged in groups

based on content

ix - Furballs and Dogbreath

The ups and downs of furry lodgers

47 - Paw Prints

all too often, we have to say goodbye… .

81 - The Darker side

life is not always fair, or kind

105

Just a few samples from

Eclectically Poetic

A motley collection of verse

by John Shillito

to be released in 2014

email contacts:

canine—[e-mail]

feline—[e-mail]

Picture_1-_Book_ID_493526_20131113053902.jpg

FURBALLS AND DOGBREATH

Pawprints On My Heart

Its A Dog Thing

Gentleman Caller

Pause

Badger Humble

Le Bon Fire

Good Breeding?

Surprise, Surprise

Turnover

Ferocious?

Breaking News

A Wonderful Day

Say No

The Shadow In The Corner

Midnight Wolf

Catastrophe

Christmas Dinner

Chips With Everything

First Present

Fireside Wolf

Bark, Bark, Thank You Ark!

Bed Time

Emotional Outburst

Heaven

Foundling

Thankyou

A Hard Life?

First Impressions

Old Dog, New Tricks?

Blind Luck—My Neighbour’s Blind Cat Went Walkies…

Lifeline

Seasonal Fluctuations

Moggy-Doggy Dancing

Making An Accommodation

Standoff At The Waterhole

I Am Easee

Walk On The Beach

Bye Bye Ark

Only A Dog

Religious Devotion

W M D

Purrrfection

Inappropriate Liasons

Song Of A Life

Transfrogmification

PAWPRINTS ON MY HEART

Silken fur, soft and warm, slips smooth beneath my fingers

Long-gone now, but down the years, this memory always lingers

Whiskers on my cheek, wake me, startled, from my sleep

So many, many cherished moments, this one I will keep

Ping-pong balls, fish on strings, and a battered catnip mouse

Baby assassins honing skills spread laughter through my house

Feathers and leaves, mice and birds, a rat, maybe a rabbit

Trophy collection growing, until age and sloth erode the habit

Sun shines through uncounted pinpricks, riddling my lounge curtain

Where tiny paws, with tiny claws, learnt to climb, so uncertain

My favourite armchair, past its best, tattered and torn because

Mighty hunters prowl these halls, and find no trees to sharpen claws

On winter’s nights ferocious killer forgoes those ruthless ways

Curls up kneading my poor knee, and there, contented, plays

A plaintive cry beside my bed, seeks shelter from the storm

Then cold wet fur, and ecstatic purr, curling up on someone warm

They gambol merrily through my life, creatures of the wild, untamed

and in their careless, carefree wake, casual chaos reigns

But when, too soon, their span is done, each one as they depart

Leaves tiny scars upon my soul, and pawprints on my heart

ITS A DOG THING

Tongues that slobber everywhere,

Tousled, soggy, muddy hair

Ears pricked up or flopping free,

Tails that wag in ecstasy

Enjoying outdoors every season,

Total devotion with no reason

Chase a ball, chase it again,

Panting like a railway train

Cleaning out the cooking pot,

Looking sorry when they’re not

Covering everyone in sand,

Paws so gentle in your hand

Gaze so soft and full of love,

Rolling over for grooming glove

Swimming in the roughest sea,

Every moment full of glee

Splashing into every brook,

Mournful, Didn’t mean it look

Leaping high with gleeful bound,

       Listening for the smallest sound

               Scrounging biscuits dipped in milk,

Coat that gleams like oil on silk

Welcome like a highland fling,

Fur that sticks to everything

I’ve often looked, rarely found,

Anything wondrous as a hound

GENTLEMAN CALLER

I have a gentleman caller, he turned up out of the blue

when he looked into my eyes, I was attracted it is true

He is so suave, sophisticated, elegant and slim

Now he’s called round several times, I might invite him in

He calls to let me know he’s there, beside the garden fence

So confident, so charming, careful not to cause offence

I let him inside, for a drink, though I was on my own

and he behaved impeccably, left when his drink was gone

He’s been here several times now, my seduction is on track

so I pushed my luck, laid a gentle hand against his back

He leant gently back against me, enough to let me know

he understood relationships are better taken slow

Tonight I asked him if he’d like to come and sit with me

and now at last I’ve got him, purring, curled up on my knee!

PAUSE

The moon peeks shyly, around the ragged edge of clouds

etching silver highlights on every twig and blade of grass

deep in the woodlands, the snap of twig cuts clear and loud

hearts beat fast, waiting breathless for the paws of death to pass

The merest hint of rustle, rumour of supple, stalking stealth

frozen moment, the pause of death, even the air is still

A dash, a pounce, blur of motion, cut short by desperate cry

all breathe again, reprieved, while eyes blaze, triumphant over kill

Badger Humble

They say I’m just a mongrel, no pedigree or worth

No regulations monitored conception or my birth

But though you can’t identify each slightly altered part

this nondescript exterior hides a loving, faithful heart

A wolf, who did all this for love, still lives inside our fur,

in return, occasionally, you show us that you care

Initially you needed us, to hunt and sometimes guard,

appearance didn’t matter, when life was short and hard

These days looks and breeding always seem to matter more,

yet mongrels are as faithful, love to play, and guard your door

Without papers we’re rejected, end up just another stray,

thank goodness for Kate Humble, who loves me anyway!

Le Bon Fire

How we love to set off fireworks, all that sound, and flame, and light

a cacophony of thunderous splendour, driving back the cold, dark night

But before the Guy’s cremation, take a last, quick look inside

because your heap of combustibles is the perfect place to hide

Baby hedgehogs hibernate in heaps of sticks and litter

or a pile of logs or a cardboard box, they don’t know any better

Bees and butterflies and bugs who fertilise our trees

make winter beds, or lay their