One time when I was a boy and a few of us camped out in a pup tent in my friend Eric's backyard, Eric showed us a trick whereby he smeared peanut butter onto his peter and scrotum and the family's Irish Setter would eagerly lick it off. I didn't do it, but one of the other guys did. They all laughed and I pretended to, but it frightened me. I wept silently later that night among the others in my sleeping bag. I peed the sleeping bag and was up first and left for home before they woke up because I was soaked in pee. That might've happened on seperate camp outs, but my memory has placed them together and I have respect for that mechanism more than actual objective sequences of events.