That's a funny story. Maybe he should dye the horse's tail blaze orange and plug an LED flashlight up its butt. Hazard City.
When I was building timber fence over by Pinedale, my boss's dad— Dean— was a famous local boozer who'd been popped for drunk driving and couldn't afford to have it happen again. He lived on the edge of town, so he started riding his mule, Johnny, to the Cowboy Bar.
After he'd filled up the empty spots, he could stagger out and climb on, and Johnny Mule would carry him home. Pinedale's not a large town and all the streets were dirt. Johnny was a civilized mule. The deputies thought that was a pretty good setup.
Until one night Dean got so drunk he couldn't get on his mule. Johnny got nervous (it was snowing) and started bawling and kicking the door of Courtney's (the guy who owned the bar) Cadillac. Raising the spectre of random car damage.
So Dean parked his horse trailer behind the bar, and would load Johnny Mule in before commencing the evening's entertainment. Then he'd stagger out, unload the mule, and ride home.
When it got too cold under the Pine Creek Bridge, the other famous town drunk, Mickey, started sleeping in Dean's horse trailer and one evening (having taken on a few pre-bar drinks) Dean loaded Johnny Mule in on top of Mickey, who crawled out, grabbed a broken bottle, and loudly accused poor Dean of trying to kill him.
Deciding that the UN peacekeepers didn't need to find Pinedale on the world map, Courtney negotiated an agreement under which Mick would sleep only in the left stall of the trailer and Dean would load Johnny Mule only in the right. When Dean would pay up at the bar, Courtney would put him through a drill: left, right, left.
He thought Mick might get pretty savage if Dean unloaded him and tried to mount up.
That's how we lived in those times.