The place we slept last night won’t be featured in any magazine called “Magical Spots for Adventurous Dogs,” but it did the job: a quiet night, no weird noises, no humans waving torches like lunatics. Just peace, the perfect place to stretch my back and reset my snout.

In the morning, we packed up and hit the road, heading north. Lots of motorway, not many curves (thankfully). Things got exciting once the scenery changed: rolling hills draped in vineyards that scream “Mosel” without needing a sign. What a valley! Papi Edu’s eyes lit up like they do when someone says “cheese.”

We looked for a lunch spot and found a picnic area with amazing views over the valley. The vineyards hung from the hillsides like someone had combed them neatly down the middle. We ate early—basically at French breakfast time—and then packed up again because we had a special appointment.

Destination: Brauneberg. That’s where Ingo and Elke were waiting, some German friends we met almost two years ago in Georgia, back when I had more black fur than grey. We’d seen online that they were nearby, so we arranged to meet for coffee. We parked our tiny camper next to their big motorhome (taller, bigger, but not nearly as nimble), and they welcomed us with hugs, smiles, and lots of chatting energy. I switched into host mode and did my best grass-rolling moves.

They had coffee and cheesecake (of course… I just drooled and stared) with the Mosel River sparkling in the background. That’s when Ingo spotted a sneaky tick on my back. Betrayal! Papi Edu whipped out the tweezers like an emergency surgeon and removed it with Swiss-level precision. Noble gesture—but no treat afterward, which felt rude.

After coffee, we all headed to a restaurant on the other side of the village, Ponyhof Jungenwald-Mühle. Ingo and Elke went by bike, we went by car (I don’t have a cycling license). They had a meal—papi Edu says it was delicious—and I basked in the sun like a happy lizard. The air smelled of meat, potatoes, sauces… and there I was, contemplating the injustice of canine existence.

Around eight we said goodbye with promises to meet again and left the Mosel valley in search of a quieter place to sleep. Not easy around here—you either end up in a vineyard or next to sandal-wearing tourists.

Luckily, we found a parking spot near a forest in a place called Natur- und Geopark Vulkaneifel. Sounds like a theme park, but it’s really just a forest with a superhero name. There was already another camper there, belonging to a very elderly German man who came straight over and invited us in for tea. I was thrilled—camper tea always smells good.

He turned out to be super friendly… and very chatty. Like, endlessly chatty. He launched into long speeches about things I didn’t really catch—Zionism, anti-Semitism, very serious stuff that just floated right out my right ear. Papi Edu listened politely and nodded like a professional diplomat, but I was already flat on the floor, staring off into space and thinking about the White Rock from yesterday.

After more than an hour, papi Edu managed a gentle escape. We retreated to our camper, closed the door, and I dove into my bed like someone escaping a political rally.

So here we are now, with crickets as our soundtrack and peace as our mattress. It’s been a day of beautiful landscapes, happy reunions, surprise ticks, and never-ending monologues. But I’m happy. Because once again, we truly lived. And tomorrow… we’ll see what bone destiny throws our way.