Adventures of Humphrey

December 26, 2025

**Boxing Day – Cold Paws, Warm Wine (Not for Me Apparently)**

I awoke the hoomans at **8am sharp**. A perfectly reasonable time. They were less enthusiastic, but eventually dragged on clothes and took me outside for my “walk”—which, as it turns out, was merely an excuse for *them* to get coffee and baked goods. Typical.

It was **-3 degrees**. Minus. Three. My paws nearly froze off. Still, I powered through like the brave adventurer I am.

Back at the apartment, the hoomans ate their pastries and—shock horror—**did not share a single bite**. I attempted a strategic climb up their leg and managed to lick the edge of the butter tub before being told off. Honestly, you can’t blame a dog for trying.

The morning passed in true Boxing Day fashion: **maximum laziness**. We snoozed on the sofa for ages, which I fully supported. Eventually, the hoomans showered, and I could have sworn I heard the words *dog park*. Surely that was just wishful thinking…

But no. **It was real.**
They took me to the dog park!

Freedom! Fetch! Zoomies! Off lead! I whizzed around like a furry missile, living my best life. I did not want to leave, but alas, the lead appeared and my reign ended.

Next stop: **the Christmas market**. First stop there? Mulled wine (because of course). I pulled the lead and accidentally spilt Dad’s mulled wine all over him, the ground, and my own coat. Oops. I quickly licked it off the ground before the hoomans noticed. Apparently I’m “too young to drink.” Says who?

The hoomans then stuffed their faces with burgers and cheesy potatoes while I endured the *torture* of the smells. I almost drooled myself into another dimension. At least I was busy being a local celebrity—greeting children, charming passers-by, generally being adored. I’m a **big deal** around here.

Eventually, we were all far too cold, so we retreated back to the apartment for a well-earned snuggle and snooze to thaw out our frozen souls.

After our nap, the hoomans—clearly unhinged—decided we should go back outside. Again. Into the freezing cold. Back towards the Christmas market we went, where they stopped for more mulled wine (any excuse). That’s when the *rude dogs* appeared.

First, a crazy French dog growled and snapped at me. Then another dog off lead snarled aggressively. Honestly, what is their problem? Muzzle your rude dogs, people.

Then Dad went into a restaurant to get food, leaving Mum and me to freeze outside like commoners in arctic conditions. I was **not amused**.

Finally, we returned to the apartment. The hoomans ate (again), and once again, I received nothing. Tragic.

We settled in front of the TV, and I was so sleepy I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Boxing Day had well and truly wiped me out.

Cold paws. Full hoomans. One very tired dog.