Here's a story from my early childhood that either happened or didn't happen, depending on who you're talking with. In the Spring of my fifth year on Earth, I lived happily in a small house on the west side of Cleveland with my parents, an older brother, and at least one or two distant cousins, recent immigrants from Greece who occupied roughed-out bedrooms in our attic.
It came to pass in those days that I arrived home from kindergarten on one occasion and found, to my great joy, a baby lamb living in our basement, next to the old coal furnace. My new pet greeted me with soulful eyes and munched on straw that I fed him. My life, at that time, was a constant series of surprises so I didn't question the lamb's presence. It was just a new fact of the world that I had encountered. I sensed an unease, however, an undefined sense of impermanence, in my new pet which, since that was already my own constant state, I didn't find unusual.