We woke up to bright sunshine and air so clean it smelled of adventure (and toast, which isn't bad either). Daddy Edu seemed in a good mood, which is already a sign that he'd slept for more than two hours straight, something as rare as seeing a cat splashing in a river. The time change had worked its magic: we left before midday. Well, technically after eleven, but that's "early" on our campervan calendar.

We only drove a few hundred meters before parking on the side of the road, in the last free spot before the village of Gavarnie. Free, my favourite word after "treat". From there we walked down to the village, less than twenty minutes to the official car park where parking costs eight euros. Eight euros to leave the car still... and then they say we dogs are the ones who don't do anything!

We went through the village, which had a bit more life than yesterday but still looked half asleep. Shops closed, empty terraces, and an end-of-season vibe. Then the good stuff started: a wide path that leads to the famous Cirque de Gavarnie. And for those of you who are already imagining clowns, trapeze artists and elephants: no, this "circus" has nothing to do with that. It's a giant natural amphitheatre, with rock walls so high that you get a crick in your neck just looking at them. And in the centre, a spectacular waterfall that falls from more than four hundred meters. Come on, if I jumped from there, not even with seven cat lives would I be saved.

The walk was beautiful, although there were quite a few people. In summer it must be a traffic jam of humans with sticks. We arrived at the hotel du Cirque et de la Cascade, the last point before the territory forbidden to dogs. There, a very friendly sign greeted us: "Dogs up to here. If you pass, a 135 euro fine." I don't know what kind of dangerous dogs they think we are, but I assure you that the only thing I would have bitten was a ham sandwich.

Daddy Edu stood looking at the sign, sighed and then tied me to the post of the sign itself. I barked my protest, but he promised me that he would only go for a few minutes to take photos. He walked about a hundred meters further and then shouted: "There is a nice viewpoint here!" Well of course, they could have put the limit there, not in the middle of the path. Anyway, humans and their sense of logic.

On his return, we turned around and took a narrower, quieter path. The sun was beating down and the air had that smell of damp forest and dry leaves that I love. We went back to the car, going back up the hill (which is harder, just so you know).

But the adventure was not over. We got in the car and headed for the Barrage d'Ossoue, a small dam about eight kilometres away. The road looked like something out of a Georgian film: big stones, crazy curves and landscapes that leave you speechless, even me, who usually isn't. Up there, another sign "Zone réglementée – chiens interdits" (Regulated Zone - dogs prohibited). Seriously, if every prohibitive sign gave points, today we would have unlocked expert mode.

Daddy parked and left me in the campervan (me keeping watch as always), while he went out to take photos of the lake. He said it was nice, although it had little water, but it still looked beautiful, with the mountains in the background.

Afterwards, we went down the same road again and stopped at the same place where we had slept the night before, but only to eat. Nothing like a good meal with a beautiful landscape in the background. Then, with a full stomach and a full tank, we left Gavarnie and its "no dog" areas behind.

The next destination: the Cirque de Troumouse. Another natural amphitheatre, another place that makes even a cat's ego feel small. Twenty kilometres of curves and climbs up to more than two thousand meters. And yes, guess what: "Zone réglementée – chiens interdits" (Regulated Zone - dogs prohibited). I don't know who regulates these zones, but I'd like to send them a polite letter with a few teeth marks.

Daddy parked up there, left me warm in the campervan and went to see the circus. Ten minutes on foot, he said, and came back delighted. He says it was impressive, but that banning dogs in all those landscapes is a real circus, and not a nice one.

The plan was to sleep there, outside the forbidden zone, but the mobile showed zero signal. No data, no messages, nothing. And that gives Daddy Edu hives. So we went down immediately. Anyway, the place had little charm to spend the night.

We drove for more than an hour, passing through Gèdre, Luz-Saint-Sauveur and Barèges, while the sun hid behind the peaks. Finally we arrived at the Col du Tourmalet, one of those names that sounds like cycling history and trembling legs. It's a mythical pass in the Tour de France, with ramps so steep that even I would stick my tongue out (more).

Up there, when it was already dark, we found a spot between two chairlift stations. You couldn't see much, but it looked cool. Outside it's freezing, the kind that freezes the urge to go for a pee, but here inside we're warm, sheltered by the silence of the mountain and the purr of the heating.

Tomorrow, who knows what awaits us. But today, between circuses without clowns, mountains with history and signs that say "no dogs", I'm going to sleep thinking that the life of the furry adventurer has more emotions than the best of shows.