Hmm, let's see: there was the dog that wandered into a district convention drama in the Virgin Islands. My best friend's dad was part of the drama (it was modern day and they were sitting in a living room), so he had the wisdom to just reach over and pet the dog's head as he was emoting, as though the dog was part of the family. It was a nice distraction.
Then there was the dog that wandered into the audience at a district convention in Darwin, Australia (I want to say it was 1972, but it might have been 1971). People started feeding him snacks and hiding him under their legs when the attendants went by. Finally they caught him and put him out, but he came right back in (this was an open-air convention), so they tried locking him in the men's room. That worked until someone went in to use the facilities, and out popped the dog. There was a ripple of laughter from the audience that entire afternoon!
And then (still in Australia) there was the circuit assembly in Mt. Isa where my dad was giving a talk and a large, biting fly settled in the corner of his eye, behind his glasses, and proceeded to gnaw away happily at Dad's face. He made it through the rest of the talk, but the local elders told him he should have stopped his talk, taken off his glasses, and removed the fly because everyone would have understood. Those flies were vicious. That was the assembly where, at dusk, flocks of pink galah cockatoos would fly overhead, tinting the sky like a sunset. It was incredibly beautiful.