Friday, November 1, 2013

I've been a cat lady since I was 4 yrs old.

My first pet was a black cat.

I named her Snow White.

Because I had an insane sense of irony, even as a young child.

(Also, because I was a little girl and I was obsessed with princesses, as is evidenced by the fact that I somehow got my little brother to name his kitten Cinderella.)

Snow White was a totally awesome cat (until the year that I was in kindergarten and she got this weird rash on her neck that she scratched until her hair fell out, but we're not going to talk about that). I mean, she was fabulous. As in, the best little kitty-turned-plow-horse that ever lived.

For real.

I'd harness her to boxes, sometimes to the inside of the baby brother's carseat (I'm not kidding) ... basically, anything I could tie a piece of yarn around ... and I'd have her pull my baby dolls (and other assorted toys) around the yard.

See Exhibit A:

Snow White, harnessed (if you want to call a red ribbon around the belly a "harness") to an avocado green baby carseat liner, with Little Laurie and her baby dolls in tow.

Maybe it's best that I don't have a pet these days. ... Or a baby, seeing as how I have a history of dismantling carseats and using their innards as outside (snow) toys. Sheesh!

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