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.
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!