More than ten years ago I had a roommate who was a little odd. We'll call him "The Whale." We'll call him "The Whale" not because he was fat, and not because he spent lots of money in casinos. In fact, why we call him "The Whale" is irrelevant to the story at hand.
"The Whale" and I had two kittens. (I have a history of getting kittens and then becoming quickly bored with them and giving them away.) I have NO IDEA what the names of the kittens were. (Perhaps because of the aforementioned kitten revolving door in my life?) Anyhow, one morning I came out of my bedroom and saw "The Whale" walking down the hall with one of the kittens. In his mouth. Seriously. The kitten was in "The Whale's" mouth. Granted, he was clenching the scruff of the kitten's neck between his lips, so the kitten was not full on in his mouth. But, he was carrying the kitten. IN HIS MOUTH.
After double-taking, no, make that triple-taking, I said, "Uhm, why is the cat in your mouth?"
He replied, "This is how their mother carried them around. I thought they would like to be reminded of their mother."
I furrowed my brow. "But you aren't the kitten's mother!!"
He smiled and continued down the hallway.