Many many moons ago (my early 20s) ... I had a kitten that I adopted who was the runt of his litter. He was about 14 weeks when I got him and not too terribly much bigger than the kittens we now have. I also had a black lab at the time who was a sweetheart of a dog, and would baby little Spunk (the kitten), bathe him, snuggle him, etc.
Well, one morning, I went out to the living room, and found L.S. (the lab, short for "Little Sh!t") on the sofa with Spunk, giving him a bath. I thought, "oh, how cute" and went to pick Spunk up, and when I did, his little kitten head fell over to the side and there was no movement. I freaked out b/c I'd never lost a pet before (except fish). I didn't know what was wrong with him, so I set him down on my lap, and tried pushing on his little kitten chest with my fingers to give him kitty CPR. I was hysterical. (
If you're laughing at this right now, I hope you choke on a pickle cuz it's true 
).
So I call my captain at home that morning (I was on active duty at the time and my ex was in the middle east on TDY), bawling my eyes out, and tell him I can't come in to work because my baby was dead. He replies (with his Tennessee twang), "I'm sorry! I didn't know you were pregnant!" I told him I wasn't, that it was my kitten. He knew what a big-time animal person I was, so he told me to do what I needed to do and he'd see me the next day.
I swaddled little Spunk up in a blanket, and we drove to my vet's office. I was afraid to try and bury him in the yard for fear L.S. might dig him up. I sit and wait about 45 minutes until the vet's assistant arrives to open shop, and get out to meet her. She comes over, sees Spunk in the blanket and pets his little head and talks to him, unaware he was a goner, until I told her. Dr. Poppy (our vet) told me she'd take care of disposing of his body, and sent me a sympathy card a few days later. She was an awesome vet with all our animals.
Turns out, L.S. had picked up Spunk at some point that morning, and he'd snapped his neck, killing him. I'm sure L.S. didn't do it intentionally; he mothered that kitten b/c he knew he was the runt and cared for him like he
was the mother.
So, after that, I swore I didn't ever want any more kittens b/c I was afraid the same thing might happen and didn't want to go through that again. When I got Fluff (the ex adopted him, actually), he was much bigger and a bit older than Spunk was when we'd gotten him, so it wasn't as much an issue.
There ya have it.
You sit that boy down and tell him that he oughta be happy your only asking for a kitten and not some high-dolla jewelry, vehicle, an inground-pool complete with a sexy latin pool stud ...
Stop that or I'll beat you with your own 
and I don't mean shoe! 
I love that logic!