Every so often, I fall upon some little meditation on the question of pets having souls. Of course I'm going to favor the ones that say "yes." After all, the credentials of that camp are often without reproach. Such is the case with George Arbuthnot, who was Vicar of Trinity Church, Stratford-on-Avon (retired 1910; here's the house in which he lived after that). Here is the verse he wrote in memory of his dog Plum-Pudding:
"Pudding!" companion of my parish round,
Content to walk to heel or patient wait,
Eager to follow, and yet always found
Watching attentive at the sick man's gate:
Thy task is done, and through the busy mart,
The idler sees thee thread thy way no more,
But I, who know thy faithful, loving heart,
Expect to meet thee at the Heavenly door.
He was a Vicar. You'd think he'd know.
--from Songs of Dogs: an anthology, selected and arranged by Robert Frothingham (1920: Houghton Mifflin Company), p. 152.