Reuben’s Trabel Journal Entry #15

Today Dougie and I bisited the Jardin des Plantes, specifically the Grande Galerie de l’Évolution, which is a fancy way ob saying a giant museum filled wiff ebery kind ob creature that eber lived (or pretended to).

There were whales hanging from the ceiling, glowing pink lights behind ancient fish bones, and what Dougie swears was a dinosaur, but I’m pretty sure was just a very old lizard habing a bad day – the dinosaurs are in the next building.

We were admiring the prehistoric fish display—well, technically we were focusing on sharing a piece of red licorice under the table and whispering so we didn’t attract the attention ob museum security. Dougie said we were being “stealthy scholars.” I said we looked suspicious, and we both agreed Teddy would hab made us wear lanyards and proper museum bisitor badges.

Anyway, as amazing as it all was—just being in this qwiet, glowing place surrounded by ancient mysteries and Dougie’s wild fish facts—I had a feeling sneak up on me. A homesick-ish kind of ache. I miss my brothers. I miss Fish pointing out extinct cheeses in the ebolution of mammals. I miss Barry pretending he’s bored but secretly reading ebery placard.

Dougie noticed I got quiet and handed me the last bite ob licorice wiffout saying a word. That’s what best friends do. But I fink I’ll call my brothers later tonight, just to say hi… and maybe see if they want to meet us at the end ob our Paris adventure.

Not because I’m done yet. But because adbentures are better when you know you get to go home to your people at the end.

– Reuben xoxo

P.S. Dougie tried to ride the giant squid skeleton like a pony. I distracted the docent wiff interpretibe dance. We are no longer welcome in the Cephalopod Wing.

Reuben’s Trabel Journal Entry #14


Starry Picnic in Paris
Seine Riverbank, across from the Eiffel Tower

Tonight was magic. Not the abracadabra kind—though Dougie did pull a wheel ob brie from under his hat—but the kind that comes from being in the right place, wiff the right people, at the right time.

We spent the whole afternoon setting up the perfect Paris picnic. Dougie and Teddy worked out the logistics: tablecloth ironed (twice), tin foil stars hand made and strung wiff care (and only a little tape in Teddy’s fur), plates stacked, fruit fluffed. I obersaw cheese placement. It’s a delicate science.

We picked this spot across the river so we could watch the Eiffel Tower do her sparkly dance. She twinkles ebery hour, like a big golden disco rat. Teddy gasped the first time she lit up—then dropped a grape out ob joy.

The rest of the crew is on their way—Peter is bringing little cakes he rated 4.7 for frosting swirl consistency, and the Cowsins are carrying a baguette so long it needed its own seat on the Metro.

But for now, it’s just us three under our homemade sky ob tin foil stars. And I gotta say, eben though Paris is full ob lights and art and buttery smells, this right here—wiff snacks, and stars, and best friends—is the most beautiful fing I’be seen all day. Wish you could be here wiff us.

– Reuben xoxo

P.S. Dougie tried to charge a tourist two euros to sit at our table. He says he’s “just testing our brand strength.” Teddy says we’re going to French jail.

Reuben’s Trabel Journal Entry #13


Loubre Museum, Paris | Morning, finally!

After a dreamy night in the courtyard, we were first in line when the doors finally opened. Dougie had our route planned like a tiny general—straight to the gallery, no snack detours (yet).

And there she was… the legendary Mona Cheesa. All the mystery ob the original, but now—wiff brie. I couldn’t look away. Dougie whispered, “She knows things,” which is a little spooky but probably true.

Teddy and Dougie climbed up for a better biew while I just stood there, taking it in. I fink I might’be fallen in love a little bit.

We saw dozens ob other masterpieces after that, but dis one? Dis one had cheese.

– Reuben 🧀

P.S. We did not lick the glass. (Except Dougie. He says it was “for science.”)

Trabel Journal Entry #12 – Midnight at the Loubre

After arribing in Paris, me, Dougie, and Teddy made a beeline for the Louvre, eager to see the treasures—particularly the tiny, mysterious painting Dougie insisted was called the Moan-a Cheese-a. But when we got there, the grand glass pyramid stood quiet and still. Closed.

Instead of heading back to their cozy little apartment for sleep like sensible kids might, we did what all excellent adbenturers do: found pastries!

Under the glow ob the pyramid lights, we set up a tiny table and shared flaky tarts, glossy blackberries, and a thimble ob raspberry tea. Dougie kept the conversation lively (mostly about snacks he planned to try next), while I admired the architecture and Teddy nodded sleepily but contentedly.

The museum might not hab been open, but the night had offered us somefing better—a quiet moment in the heart ob Paris, wiff good friends and good food. The art can wait until morning.

– Reuben

Reuben’s Trabel Journal – Entry #12

Location: Country road to Paris
Date: Sunny, grape-scented

Dear Journal,

After the whole castle-catapult-moat-singeing situation (which eberyone swears they’re not going to bring up again, but Dougie still smells faintly toasted), we made our way down the hill and met the farmer Dougie accidentally grape-bombed during the balloon ride.

Good news: he wasn’t mad! In fact, he said it was the best “top-shelf sky snack” he’d eber received. He was so nice (and because our Vespa isn’t exactly built for cross-country trabel), he offered us his little red truck to get to Paris.

We could’ve all squished into the cab, but Dougie and I called dibs on the back. Best. Decision. Eber. There’s just something magical about bumping down a country road wiff the wind in your whiskers and the sky wide open abobe you.

We watched the hills roll past, golden fields wabing in the breeze. We shared jokes, half a baguette, and a berrry squishy cheese. We wabed at cows and cyclists and one berry confused goose. For a little while, we didn’t talk about what was next. We just were — just two friends in the back ob a truck, grateful and grubby and full ob stories and secrets.

It was one ob those moments you tuck away in your heart and carry wiff you foreber.

Paris is just over the hill.

—Reuben xoxo

Reuben’s Trabel Journal – Entry #11 (part two)


Sproing!

Off he went—soaring fru the air like a fuzzy cannonball ob joy and regret.

We all watched in stunned silence as he arced fru the sky… and splashed directly into the moat.

He emerged a few moments later, soaked but triumphant, wiff a lily pad on his head and a very pleased expression.

I rushed over wiff a towel. He did his best to dry off, wringing out his ears and shaking off like a soggy puppy. But then Ronald came bounding over wiff an idea.

“I can help!” Ronald announced proudly. He took a deep breath, puffed up his little cheeks, and gabe Dougie a blast ob his baby dragon fire.

It wasn’t exactly what we had in mind.

There was a sudden whoosh, a smell like toasted socks, and a small sizzle noise. Dougie blinked. His fur was dry, sure—but also slightly crisp on one side. Ronald looked horrified.

“I only singed you a little bit!” he squeaked. Dougie patted his own head, then gave Ronald a thumbs-up.

“Perfect,” he grinned. “I like my style wiff a bit ob crunch.”

We laughed all the way back to the Vespa.

—Reuben xoxo

Reuben’s Trabel Journal – Entry #11 (part one)

Location: Outside Château Fromage
Date: Time for next adbenture

Dear Journal,

Dinner in the great hall was magnifique!  There were chandeliers, endless courses, and a tiny harpist who played “La Vie en Fromage” while we sipped sparkling juice from golden thimbles. But all good feasts must come to an end, and after many hugs and a group photo wiff Ronald, it was time to go.

On the way out, we passed the catapult—the berry same one Ronald had (accidentally) launched a boulder from earlier. I gabe it a respectful nod and kept walking, but Dougie? Dougie got that look.

Before I could say, “No, Dougie,” he was already climbing up and yelling, “C’est l’heure du VOL!” (“It’s flying time!”)

He nestled into the launch scoop and gabe me a wink. I hesitated. I really did. But then I pulled the leber…

Seben-Eleben Day

Today is Seben-Elebenty Day!

While Reuben is still on adbenture in France, probably sipping an espresso under a striped awning and nibbling on a flaky croissant, the rest ob the crew is holding down the fort back home—one Slurpee at a time.

They clinked their cups in solidarity and said, “To Reuben! May your pastries be warm and your cheese be stinky!”

(Meanwhile, Fish quietly whispered to his Slurpee, “You’re not cheese, but you’ll do.”)


Reuben’s Trabel Journal – Entry #10


Location: Château de Ronald
Date: Touching Almost Nothing

Dear Journal,

We landed safely in a field near the castle, thanks to Ronald’s heroic fire-breath (and a lucky breeze). After a lot of cheering and a little bit of crying (mostly from Dougie, but happy tears), Ronald invited us inside for a proper castle tour.

“Just one rule,” he said, puffing out his chest like a tour guide in training. “By order ob the monarch: NO TOUCHING ANYFING.”

Teddy wrote it down immediately. Dougie nodded solemnly. I tucked my paws behind my back.

We made it fru the Grand Gallery wiffout incident. We almost made it through the Belbet Throne Room. But the music stand in the Royal Music Salon? It was just so… shiny.

Before we knew it, Dougie had climbed up for a better look. Teddy followed to inspect the “craftsmanship.” And I—I may have tapped one ob the keys on a berry old piano that played a note that definitely echoed.

Ronald gasped.

We froze.

But instead ob scolding us, he leaned in and whispered, “Okay okay just don’t tell the monarch. Or the butler. They’re snitches.”

We kept exploring—secret staircases, golden libraries, a hallway ob portraits with eyes that follow you (berry unsettling).

Teddy rated it 4.5 stars for decor, 5 stars for the cheese platter. Dougie says if we ever need a hideout, this castle is perfect.

And me? I feel like we’re libing inside a storybook.

Just… next time, I’ll keep my paws in my pockets.  Gotta run, we don’t want to be late for dinner in the Grand Hall!

—Reuben  xoxo

P.S. We did not touch the crown. Technically.

Reuben’s Trabel Journal – Entry #9


Location: Still in the Sky

Date: The Day Ronald Became a Hero

Dear Journal,

For a moment, we were certain it was the end ob our balloom boyage.

The catapulted rock—a boulder, really—was whistling fru the air like a very angry tater. Teddy yelled “DUCK!” but there were no ducks, and no way to steer. Dougie gripped my shoulder. I saw my life flash before my eyes (mostly cheese and socks).

And then…

Ronald.

He squinted. He puffed up. He stomped his foot fibe times (which I now know is how you summon full brabery), and just as the boulder closed in—Ronald blew.

It wasn’t a huge, roaring dragon-blast like in the stories. It was more like a warm sneeze. But the breeze it stirred tipped the rock just enuff.

The boulder missed the balloon entirely and landed with a soft thud in a hay field. A nearby goat looked confused, then went back to chewing.

We stared at Ronald in awe. He stared back, eyes wide and a little teary. “You DID it!” Dougie called.

Ronald beamed. I fink he grew a whole inch in pride.

We’re still floating. Still together. Still safe.
Thanks to our littlest, warmest, fiercest friend.

—Reuben xoxo

P.S. The breeze singed one croissant, but it was still edible. Teddy called it “caramelized.”