This is a fun poem, from about the Ninth Century, written by a monk about his companion cat. (The cat’s name, Pangur Bán, means ‘fuller white.’)
Even though that’s a little earlier than most of us were reading about our special pets, I thought you’d find it interesting. The entire poem is available at Irish Archaeology, http://irisharchaeology.ie/2013/10/pangur-ban/ , but here are the first two stanzas.
I and Pangúr Bán my cat,
‘Tis a like task we are at:
Hunting mice is his delight,
Hunting words I sit all night.
Better far than praise of men
‘Tis to sit with book and pen;
Pangúr bears me no ill-will,
He too plies his simple skill.
Hope you enjoy it! (You might try reading it to your cat(s) and get another opinion. Abishag and Ira, alas, were singularly unimpressed.)
Abishag, Ira and Kezia 