Lloret at an unsociable hour and in sips

At four in the morning my body said: now. Not later. Now. I opened one eye, then the other, and looked at Daddy Edu with my most polite look of extreme urgency. The one that says "it's not a whim, it's internal logistics". In the camper this is easily solved: door opens, dog goes out, planet keeps spinning. But of course, here we were in a hotel. A hotel with corridors, carpets and rules. Lots of rules. Among them a very clear one: I can't pee or poop in the hallway. What an exaggeration.

So I had to wake up Daddy Edu, who made that human noise at dawn that mixes sleep, resignation and doggy love. He got half-dressed, I didn't get dressed at all because I come as standard, and we went out into the street. And no, we didn't run. Because when I need to go, it doesn't mean I'm in a hurry. I have a ceremony. A quiet walk, selective sniffing, deep reflection. Lloret de Mar was asleep, the streetlights were watching and Daddy Edu was learning once again that nomadic life is etched in the DNA. In the end everything went well, literally, and we went back to the room. We slept quite well for the rest of the night. I was satisfied. He... resigned but proud.

In the morning the humans went for breakfast. I huffed again. I stayed in the room, guarding the fort and listening to them walk away talking about coffee, pastries and unimportant life decisions. The breakfast humans were Daddy Edu, Uncle Joan, Uncle Antonio, Uncle Héctor and Uncle Jordi. I wasn't officially invited, although I still don't understand why.

After breakfast we went for a walk. Daddy Edu, Uncle Joan, Uncle Jordi and me. The rest of the gang stayed in the hotel a little longer because one of them, we won't say who but his name starts with H, needs more time to get organised. I don't judge. Each species has its own rhythm.

Lloret by day has another face. More life, more people, more terraces. We walked without a fixed destination. Coffee here, coffee there, humans sitting, humans getting up, humans saying "one last one and we're leaving" several times in a row. I was happy, with no hurry, with just the right amount of sun and the sea in the background. We saw more of the town and at the end of the promenade a thing appeared that looks like a castle. It isn't entirely. It's more like... how to say it respectfully... very decorative. Kitsch. Pretty in its own way, like those toys that are useless but you like them.

Later we met up with the rest of the gang and continued the day in soft mode. No big excursions, no challenges. Just walking, looking, sitting, getting up again.

At night back to the hotel. The humans had dinner early, at a very touristy time, in the hotel restaurant. Another buffet. Another silent battle for food. I stayed in the room, thinking that one day I will write a treatise on human buffets and their customs.

Before sleeping, a last walk on the other side of the Lloret promenade, quieter, darker, more mine. And so the day ended. Simple. Without epic. Without mountains. Without mud. But with nocturnal pee, coffees in the sun and the certainty that, even far from the camper, we are still us.