No potted plant or open window would do. All it would take is one idle glance back, and he'd be forced to bear the unimaginable shame of his faux pas. An empty room, now that could be excusable. Perhaps he'd seen a bird, and raced to the window to get a better look? Or maybe the long journey had made the stuffy cabin air intolerable, and he'd raced for a single breath of fresh air? The possibilities were limitless.

Once the foal was distracted with the promise of a half-cookie, he silently slipped away into an empty room, intending to spit into a trash can or other such receptacle.