And now, my famous or infamous boyhood horse story. I suppose I was about 7-years-old and sent to an overnight camp in New Ulm, MN that had been a former POW camp during WWII. One of the activities was horseback riding. I was quite small and assigned to Shorty, not a pony, just a short horse. I was warned that Shorty was always extremely gassy and to keep a safe distance when walking behind him. I should have paid better attention. One day, I walked too close, Shorty lifted his tail and with a powerful wind covered me with manure. I was the only one not convulsed with laughter.
Many years later, while a student at the University of Minnesota, I asked a beautiful classmate for a date. She accepted, but also asked if I was the kid at camp in New Ulm who a horse pooped all over.