Adventures of Humphrey

08 June, 2026

Buongiorno readers,

After yesterday’s outrageous early start by the hoomans, I decided I needed to regain control of the household schedule. So at precisely 6am, I launched Operation Wake-Up Call and delivered Mum a large slobbery lick directly to the face.

You’re welcome.

About twenty minutes later the alarm went off anyway, which honestly felt unnecessary after my excellent service. The hoomans dragged themselves out of bed while I supervised from the sofa like a tiny furry manager.

Today’s destination: **Florence**.

We drove to a gigantic car park filled with buses and tourists, but thankfully we’d arrived early enough that the chaos levels were still manageable. Then came a new mode of transport for yours truly… a **tram**.

Now, as an experienced international traveller, I handled this with complete professionalism. I sat politely at Dad’s feet, minded my business, and behaved impeccably. Best of all — no face contraption required. Finally, a transport system with some common sense.

When we arrived in the city centre, I looked up and nearly fell over backwards. Readers… the cathedral was ENORMOUS.

Dad said it was called the *Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore*, but honestly they could just call it “the gigantic pointy building.” Mum practically lost her mind with excitement and immediately began taking 47 million photos.

Florence was actually quite cool. Lots of shaded alleyways for my paws, pretty buildings, little squares full of people eating pasta, and pigeons absolutely everywhere. A lesser dog may have lost control, but I remained a professional pigeon observer.

We spotted another Vizsla too. Nice enough chap, but clearly lacking my star quality.

We stopped for breakfast where the hoomans had pastries and coffee while I received… absolutely nothing. Again. I really don’t know why restaurants continue ignoring the most important customer at the table.

Afterwards we visited a big square full of statues, including a famous naked man called David. Dad said it was Michelangelo’s masterpiece. Personally, I think the tourists were more interested in *me*, because while Mum waited on the steps beside the statues with me, people kept stopping to pet me instead of admiring the artwork.

Standard behaviour when Humphrey enters a city.

Next we wandered over to the Ponte Vecchio bridge beside the river. By this point the temperature had become deeply offensive. My tongue was hanging out like a damp towel and I kept searching for tiny patches of shade while Mum insisted on “just one more picture.”

We then went to a rooftop wine bar with incredible views over Florence. The hoomans drank wine while I melted gently under the table like a tired furry pancake. At one point we waited for the lift and a woman shrieked when the doors opened and she saw me standing there. Honestly, lady, you’re welcome for the surprise celebrity appearance.

Eventually the heat became unbearable, so we headed to an indoor food market. The smells in there were unbelievable. Cheese. Meat. Bread. Pasta. Truffles. I nearly passed out from sensory overload trying to sniff everything at once.

Thankfully — FINALLY — the hoomans rewarded my excellent behaviour with a full gelato cone all to myself.

Readers… it was magnificent.

Cold. Creamy. Delicious. Possibly the greatest moment of my Italian career.

The tram ride back was packed tighter than a tin of sardines and I got squashed between everyone’s legs, but I endured it bravely until we reached the glorious air-conditioned car.

Back at Villa Humbourg we had the perfect lazy afternoon. Mum snoozed, Dad and I lounged in the garden, and I rotated between sofas to ensure every cushion received equal appreciation.

Later the hoomans dragged me out for one final Tuscan dinner at a traditional restaurant. The owner adored me immediately and even fed me little pieces of prosciutto under the table. At last — a man who understands hospitality.

Back at the villa, the hoomans drank wine while I stretched out on the sofa thinking about tomorrow. Apparently we’re leaving Villa Humbourg in the morning.

I’m trying not to panic.

What if the next place has no sofas?

What if there are no doggo friends?

What if Figaro forgets me?

Too emotional to continue.

Buona notte,
Humphrey x