Adventures of Humphrey

December 27, 2025

**27th December – Day Trip to Bruges (First Class, Obviously)**

As always, I carried out my **night-time security duties**, guarding the hoomans from intruders, suspicious noises, and possibly ghosts. You’re welcome. Unfortunately, despite my tireless service, the hoomans woke up **far too early**, and I had absolutely no intention of getting out of bed.

Mum had a shower, then noticed something very serious: I was

**shaking and limping**. My poor left front paw hurt, and I don’t even know what I’d done to it. Naturally, she felt terrible and let me snuggle on the edge of the bed for warmth and comfort. Correct response.

The hoomans debated cancelling the day trip to Bruges, but after I went outside to do my morning constitutions and proved I could still walk like a brave soldier, the decision was made. Off we went.

We arrived at a **gigantic station**, where they bought tickets. Yes, *I* needed a ticket too. I am a paying passenger. It was absolutely freezing in the station—even with my jumper on, I was shivering like a leaf.

Finally, we boarded the train, and oh my goodness… **first class**. Warm. Carpeted. Civilised. I lay down immediately and fell fast asleep. Between all our recent adventures and my nightly guard

duties, I was completely exhausted. The gentle rocking of the train finished me off.

We had to change trains halfway. The second train was not as glamorous as my first-class carriage, but I was too tired to care. The conductor checked tickets and didn’t mention my lack of a muzzle—even though it’s “technically required.” Honestly, how could anyone muzzle a dog this handsome? I bring joy wherever I go. I am a public service.

As soon as we arrived in Bruges, the smells hit me—familiar and wonderful. I instantly perked up and rediscovered my energy. We walked through the park, where I met the **nicest collie** and made a new best friend… until her owner cruelly took her away. Spoil sport.

We headed toward my favourite square. In the summer, this is where I usually get frisky and display some mild hooligan behaviour. Unfortunately, there was a massive market on and it was packed.

We stopped at a restaurant—and here’s where things took a dark turn. There were **no seats inside** the warm, cosy building. Naturally, the hoomans should have chosen another place. Did they? No. They made me sit **outside in the freezing cold**. The spare hooman wrapped her scarf around me, which was kind but useless. The service was painfully slow. I lay dramatically on the ground (yes, I had my blanket, but I chose protest instead). Eventually, we left, and I peeled my frozen body off the pavement.

We wandered through two Christmas markets. One was extremely busy, but I handled it like a professional city dog. The hoomans drank more mulled wine to keep warm. I received none and continued

freezing quietly.

Salvation finally arrived in the form of the **beer museum**. We skipped the museum part (boring) and went straight to the beer hall. It was **gloriously warm**. I could actually feel my paws tingling as they defrosted. I fell fast asleep while the hoomans drank beer and chatted.

After waking me, we walked around the city some more. I was an absolute hit—people wanted photos of *me*, not the scenery. Fame is exhausting.

We stopped at another restaurant (thankfully indoors), then headed back to the train. I slept part of the journey home and also greeted a few fellow passengers, spreading joy as usual.

Back at the apartment, I climbed onto the sofa with my weary legs. My paw was still a bit sore, so the hoomans promised we’d have a **lazy day tomorrow**. Excellent decision.

I caught forty winks on the sofa before preparing for my **night shift** once again. A hero’s work is never done.