Today we set off at a leisurely pace, which is a fancy way of saying we left around half past eleven with a Sunday feeling, even though it wasn't Sunday. Papa Edu decided that going up to the village and then down to the motorway was for normal people, so he opted to cut through the dirt tracks. Spoiler alert: it wasn't a shortcut. It was an adventure. The kind that starts with "this will definitely work" and ends with the car swaying and me with my ears in radar mode. It got complicated little by little: curves, potholes, more mud than expected, and a few "this wasn't on the map" moments. Result: it took us longer than going on asphalt, but we had more fun, which counts for something. We even passed through Santiponce, skirting the monastery of San Isidoro del Campo, which we didn't even look at today because even history takes a break on Mondays.

In Seville, we had arranged to meet a friend of Tito Joan, but first, it was time for the extreme sport of the day: parking. Papa Edu thought of La Macarena, our old neighbourhood, where small miracles always happen. We went around and around, many times, and when it seemed impossible... we parked right in front of Papa Carlos's flat. I didn't need GPS; I knew exactly where it was. We went up to give hugs and licks, chatted for a while, and then we walked towards the centre.

Half an hour's walk later, we arrived at our friend Carlos's bridal shop on Cuna Street. Lots of pretty fabric, laughter, and me, making sure no one took anything weird without smelling it first. When human hunger started to rumble, we sat on a terrace in Plaza de Santa Marta. Good weather, a bit chilly in the shade, and a "mini" flamenquín that wasn't very mini at all. Me, as always, managing intense gazes in case something fell.

We went back to the car and returned to the Aljarafe while the sky turned serious. Then Papa Edu said a dangerous phrase: "let's have a coffee at IKEA". Classic mistake. We went in for coffee and came out with a sofa bed ordered for the flat in Berga. I think IKEA has a spell or something. Even so, the coffee was drunk, and the three of us went for a walk around the store. I mentally approved of several sofas, although no one asked me.

Afterwards, we crossed to Tomares, parked in a Park4Night spot, and went to see Tito Mariola and Tito Miguel. And here comes the good part: Mariola is making me a crochet sweater to measure. No standard sizes, this is high canine couture. They measured my neck, chest, legs... it looked like a canine tailoring session. The sweater is already taking shape and it's beautiful, just a heads up. Meanwhile, the humans had dinner with Mariola and Tito Miguel, and I supervised everything from the floor, which is my usual office.

Around midnight we said goodbye and walked five minutes to the campervan. The place is urban, yes, but quiet at night, which is what matters. We ended the day tired, happy, and with the feeling of having done many things without rushing too much. And here we are, snoring, dreaming of impossible tracks, giant flamenquines, and sweaters that I can't wear yet but I'm already showing off.