When I was growing up on a Kansas farm about 50 years ago, outhouses were the going thing. Ours was a regular one seater with a Sears catalogue, but some were two seaters, with an actual roll of tissue and fancy cut-outs in the door.
Like us, our friend Vern had a small one out back. He also had a bunch of pigs that ran loose so they could forage for some of their food. The dog delighted in chasing those pigs all over the farm whenever Vern wasn't in sight. One day Vern was perched comfortably in his outhouse, bib overalls around his feet, when he heard that dog barking wildly and little pigs squealing with fear. He bolted out of there screaming some not-so-nice things. At the dog as he tried to run with those overalls acting like hobbles.
Too late, he discovered the barking of the dogs and the squealing of the pigs was caused by guests who were standing by watching the whole scene with amazement.
Poor Vern had an even harder time trying to back into the outhouse. He never lived that down, but embarrassment must not damage a person's health, as Vern is in his 80s now.
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