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Lightning struck my left boot outside Prague. I felt only a tickle. For a week after that, I could light candles with my toe and start a stove by stamping. The local priest made me stand in the church aisle at Advent, and we saved a fortune on wax.

Rain followed me around Portugal for a month, like a loyal and rather damp dog. I tried running. I tried hiding in a church. At last I scratched it behind the clouds and sent it home to the Atlantic. On some gray days it still comes by to visit.

Sea serpents are shy and prone to tears. I met one near the Hebrides and told it a sad tale about my horse. It wept a fresh lake. We talked for nine hours. I tied its neck in a bow, at its own request, and it thanked me warmly.

An elephant in Delhi once forgot something, and the shame nearly killed him. He came to me in tears. I sat him down and asked gentle questions for a week. It turned out to be the name of his aunt. We sent a letter, she wrote back, and the city danced until its walls fell.

Nobody could shoe my black stallion, for his feet moved too fast. I ran behind him with a.