Adventures of Humphrey

03 June, 2026

This morning I was absolutely exhausted. All that mountain adventuring yesterday had finally caught up with me. I reluctantly dragged Dad out for my morning constitutionals, then marched straight back to the apartment, curled myself into the perfect sofa ball, and prepared for a full day of uninterrupted snoozing.

Unfortunately, the hoomans had other ideas.

First they dragged me to breakfast. Then, just as I settled back onto *my* sofa and closed my eyes… they announced:

“Time for another hike!”

Honestly, these people are relentless.


I attempted a peaceful protest by refusing to move, but somehow I still ended up outside.

Today’s route wasn’t as steep as yesterday’s mountain madness, but wow… it just kept going and going and GOING.

We followed an icy river for a while. I dipped my paws in for dramatic effect, but the water was absolutely freezing, so I exited immediately with what I felt was considerable dignity.

Then we wandered along alpine trails and beautiful green meadows. Sadly, there was no off-lead freedom today because there were roads, bicycles, cows, and approximately twelve million tourists wandering about.

There were also cow pats everywhere.

Now, in my professional opinion, cow pats are a delicacy. A gourmet countryside snack. The hoomans, however, cruelly refused to let me sample any OR roll in them.

Apparently “eau de cow field” is not the sophisticated scent they’re aiming for.

Philistines.

Halfway through the hike, we stopped at a little mountain farm café while the hoomans had coffee and waited for the rain to pass.

Thankfully they remembered my raincoat today. Finally, some competent planning.

Unfortunately, they forgot my blanket, meaning I had to sit directly on the cold concrete floor like some kind of peasant mutt.

The farm also had chickens, which looked extremely chaseable, but Dad ruined all my fun by keeping me at a “respectable distance.”

Then I spotted some strange creatures.

They looked sort of like horses… but smaller… and grumpier.

Mum informed me they were called *donkeys*.

I decided not to get too close. I may be brave, but I’m not reckless.

After the rain eased, we continued toward a gigantic ski jump.

Honestly, the thing was terrifying.

Apparently hoomans willingly throw themselves down it attached to two sticks.

Absolutely not.

There were cows grazing nearby too. I’m still not fully convinced cows can be trusted, but I’m getting braver and managed to walk past them without performing my usual tactical retreat.

Progress.

At long last we returned to town and I thought:

“Excellent. Sofa time.”

Wrong again.

The hoomans suddenly decided we were going up a mountain in a *cable car.*

Mum and Dad got free tickets, but apparently I had to pay for mine. Typical.

Still, I did receive a very fancy little dog tag, which I wore proudly while strutting toward the entrance like an experienced alpine traveller.

Then disaster struck.

The muzzle sign.

Again.

I tried pretending I hadn’t seen it, but no such luck. Dad attached the humiliation device to my face despite my heartfelt objections.

Thankfully we got a cable car to ourselves, so the muzzle came off once we were inside and I could properly enjoy the incredible views below.

Tiny houses. Huge mountains. Green valleys.

Very impressive.

Then just before getting off… the muzzle went back on.

Why must society punish handsome dogs?

When the cable car doors opened, we stepped out into FREEZING air.

There was actual snow on the ground.

In JUNE.

The wind blasted all three of us so hard that even the hoomans immediately abandoned their sightseeing plans.

We quickly admired the mountain view, took approximately forty-seven photographs, then retreated into a warm restaurant where the hoomans thawed themselves with hot drinks.

I supervised from beneath the table.


On the ride back down, other people joined our cable car which meant…

…the muzzle stayed on.

I tried pawing it off.
I rubbed it against Dad’s leg.
I attempted emotional manipulation.

Nothing worked.

One man even asked if I was a “bad dog.”

Excuse me?!

The hoomans quickly explained that I’m actually *the goodest boy* and it’s just the cable car rules.

As soon as we got off, Dad removed it and I inhaled the sweet scent of freedom once more.

Let’s never do that again.

We finally returned to the apartment where I collapsed dramatically onto the sofa and entered a deep recovery snooze.

Unfortunately, the hoomans later announced it was “dinner time.”

Honestly, these people never stop leaving the apartment.

On the way into town, Mum went shopping in a clothes shop where I was thankfully allowed inside. While she browsed, I admired the incredibly handsome dog in the mirror.

What a specimen.

We then headed to a street food restaurant where I snoozed beside the table while the hoomans ate. Afterwards we sat outside at a wine bar overlooking the mountains.

Apparently the view was stunning.

I wouldn’t know.

I was too sleepy to keep my eyes open.

That’s what happens when you hike 8.5 miles one day after charging around mountains for 6 miles the day before.

On the walk home I made sure to do my evening business because once I get back onto that sofa, I am absolutely not moving again until morning.

Thankfully tomorrow is a travel day, which hopefully means rest, relaxation, and significantly less hiking.

**Nacht fellow readers… my eyes are closing mid-sentence.**

### Best Part of the Day:

Hiking through alpine meadows and earning my official mountain dog credentials.

### Worst Part of the Day:

The return of the muzzle. A truly horrifying betrayal.