Adventures of Humphrey

11 June, 2026

Buongiorno readers,

Last night was dreadful.

Absolutely dreadful.

My poorly toe had decided to make its presence known and spent the entire night throbbing away. Every time I tried to get comfortable, it hurt. Every time I moved, it hurt. Every time I sighed dramatically about my suffering… it still hurt.

Naturally, I expressed my feelings through a combination of groaning, sighing and occasional mournful sobs.

The hoomans, to be fair, were quite good about it.

Dad and the spare hooman took shifts sitting beside me on the floor. Every time Mum tried to sneak back into bed, I simply snuggled closer and looked pathetic.

Worked every time.

Eventually I drifted off and managed a few hours of sleep, but when morning arrived, everyone looked exhausted.

Especially Mum.

Apparently my nursing demands have resulted in her getting very little sleep for the last two nights. Still, at 6am she dutifully got up and took me for a gentle stroll.

That’s service.

Afterwards we all returned to bed for another hour because nobody was functioning properly.

At breakfast Dad made the outrageous suggestion that we go on a hike.

Readers, Mum and I exchanged a look that clearly said:

*”Has he completely lost his mind?”*

A hike?

With my sore toe?

After no sleep?

Absolutely not.

Thankfully common sense prevailed and we decided on a much slower day of sightseeing instead.

We headed to another beautiful Tuscan hill town called **Montalcino**.

As with most places in Tuscany, it was ridiculously pretty.

Old stone buildings.

Tiny winding streets.

Flower boxes.

Spectacular views.

The usual Italian showing off.

We pottered around at a leisurely pace, stopping regularly so the hoomans could admire the scenery and, of course, acquire coffee.

I mostly focused on greeting my adoring public.

It’s important work.

We stopped for lunch in a lovely little square in **Bagno Vignoni** where I made friends with a lady at the next table. She immediately recognised that I was the most interesting member of our group and spent ages chatting to me.

At last, somebody with priorities.

Despite the pleasant outing, my toe was becoming increasingly sore. By the time we got back to the car I was struggling to put much weight on it.

The hoomans exchanged one of those worried looks.

You know the one.

The look that means trouble.

Then Dad said the dreaded words:

*”I think we should take him to the vet.”*

Now readers, normally I would launch a formal protest.

There would be dramatic resistance.

Possibly some strategic hiding.

Maybe a hunger strike.

But honestly?

My paw hurt.

So off we went.

This was not your typical terrifying vet experience though. The nice lady examined my paw very gently and told the hoomans that I’d damaged my nail.

She gave me antibiotics, painkillers and probiotics for my tummy while taking the medicine.

Quite the pharmaceutical collection.

Then she said something that made my ears stand up.

Apparently I have to come back tomorrow and she is going to “cut it off.”

Excuse me?

Cut what off?

My paw?

My leg?

My entire foot?

I looked at Mum in horror.

Thankfully neither hooman seemed particularly alarmed, so I assume I must have misunderstood.

Probably.

Hopefully.

Please let it be hopefully.

Back at the agriboutique I took my medicine like a very brave boy and spent the evening resting in the garden.

The funny little goats were there again, entertaining themselves by headbutting each other for absolutely no reason.

Very strange creatures.

I watched them for quite a while before deciding that perhaps dogs are the more sophisticated species after all.

By bedtime I was completely exhausted.

No sightseeing.

No adventures.

No wrestling with vineyard dogs.

Just medicine, sympathy and lots of rest.

The good news is that my toe already feels a little better.

The bad news is that tomorrow apparently involves another visit to the vet.

Pray for me, readers.

Buona notte,

Humphrey x