It was a perfect sunny morning when the brothers set off for their Ratty Box Beach Day. It had been so hot, a day to cool off was necessary.

Reuben was the first to claim the surf-shack hut, peeking out like he was the official lifeguard on duty. He eben had his little crab to help keep watch. “No running on the sand!” he squeaked, though he was secretly planning to nap instead of sabing lives.

Fish, ob course, found the snack pack labeled Beachy Bites and immediately began nibbling fru the bag. “Beach regulations clearly state that banana flabored snacks must be eaten immediately,” he explained, crumbs dusting his whiskers.

Barry climbed up into the hammock swaying from the palm tree, declaring it his private cabana. From up high, he could obersee eberyfing — the wabes, the clouds, and whether Fish left any snacks unguarded. He swung gently back and forth, pretending he was at a resort.

Meanwhile, Baxter was scouting for seashells to take home as souvenirs. He arranged them neatly in a row on the wooden planks, already finking about how they’d look on the windowsill back home.

The day rolled on wiff sunbathing, sand pawprints, and Baxter attempting (unsuccessfully) to surf on a piece ob driftwood. By the time the sun began to set, the boys were happily worn out, bellies full ob snacks, their fur salty and windswept.

It was unanimously decided: Ratty Box Beach Day was the best kind of day.

It’s our last day in Paree, so we decided to hab our farewell picnic right in front ob the famous I Lub You Wall. It’s covered in “I lub you” written in more languages than we hab crumbs on our picnic table (and trust me, dat’s a lot).

We set up our table, unpacked our baguettes, cheeses, and a teeny-tiny box of macarons, and sat under all those beautiful words. Between bites, we read them out loud, eben the ones we couldn’t pronounce, makin’ up our own silly bersions.

From where we sat, we could just imagine the big spinny Ferris wheel, the grand L’Ouvre wiff the Mona Cheesa and all the other arts, and Angelina’s (world-famous for hot chocolate so thick you could stand a spoon in it) on the other side ob town, but we are still finking about it.

We laughed, we munched, and we remembered all the adbentures we’d had. Fish said his faborite part was “all da cheese,” but then he whispered, “and bein’ wiff my fwiends.” My whiskers got all wiggly at dat.

So dis is for you, Paris: Je t’aime. And for my fwiends: I lub you more than snacks… and dat’s really sayin’ somethin’.Farewell for now. Fanks for an amazing adbenture.

Reuben xoxo

P.S. from Dougie: “I left my own ‘I love you’ up dere so Paris remembers us… also, so dey know who ate all da picnic cheese.”

It’s our last few days in Paris before we head back home, so today we made a berry important stop at Galeries Lafayette — you know, for essenshul shopping. Soubenirs, treats, and portable French foods to tuck into our suitcases (and maybe our cheeks, if there’s oberflow).

Reuben took charge ob the tiny shopping cart, naturally, wiff Dougie helping him pick just the right fings, and Teddy came along to make sure we kept an eye on the monies. So far we hab fancy noodles, mystery sauces, and at least four kinds ob jam. Reuben spent ten minutes debating between two types ob honey before getting both. Barry found a tin ob biscuits that “smelled like a memory,” and we’re not sure what that means, but we bought it.

We still need to find:

Cheese that won’t melt on the way home

A tote bag wiff the Eiffel Tower on it

One more jar of something confusing but delicious

Also, Dougie disappeared into the wine aisle and hasn’t returned yet.