The day started with a good leg stretch on the Waterford Greenway. I was leading the team as if I had a compass in my nose: the smells of bikes, leftover sandwiches and the odd lost squirrel that made me dream of epic chases. A warm-up walk for what was to come.

Soon we were in the centre of Waterford, the oldest city in Ireland. We parked (two euros for two hours, I translate that to "one euro per front leg") and set off to explore.

The old town, called "The Viking Triangle", is like a theme park of warriors with horned helmets, shiny swords and ships ready to invade. There's Christ Church Cathedral, elegant and serious, where Daddy Edu went in for a moment while I stayed outside, marking my territory in a big way. Right in front we discovered the sculpture of Strongbow and Aoife, two bronze figures that seem frozen in their wedding of the year one thousand one hundred and seventy. He, Richard de Clare, nicknamed Strongbow, a Norman knight with a face of "I've left my sword on the bedside table", and she, Aoife MacMurrough, an Irish princess who agreed to marry him to seal an alliance that would change everything.

That marriage was not just a romantic "I do", but a serious political treaty: Aoife was the daughter of the King of Leinster, who needed support to regain his throne, and by marrying her to Strongbow, it opened the door to the arrival of the Normans in Ireland. Come on, that wedding banquet was the beginning of centuries of Anglo-Norman rule on the island. I, who passed between their bronze feet, thought that maybe, if they had invited the dogs to the banquet, things would have been smoother: conflicts are better dealt with by sharing bones than swords!
We continued to the Museum of Time... although we didn't go in because, officially, there was no time. But you already know the truth: they put the door in our face! Better to spend those minutes sniffing corners.

The star of the tour was Reginald's Tower, the oldest urban construction in Ireland. Round, robust, with centuries of stories kept in the stone. And in front, a reconstructed Viking ship that looked ready to set sail again. I sniffed it with so much enthusiasm that they almost named me canine deck watch.

Afterwards we strolled along the banks of the River Suir, where the water flowed quietly while I checked that the seagulls still didn't want to play with me. With an hour and a half of exploration we had enough, because my legs were already asking for a change of scenery.

So we headed to the Copper Coast, that stretch of coast that shines with cliffs and a copper mining past. Near Dungarvan we found a beach of round stones. Park4night said "no overnight stays", but a very nice neighbour almost encouraged us to sleep there, assuring us that no one would bother us. Even so, Daddy decided to move us to a Greenway car park, which was more comfortable. There we ate in the camper and, with a full belly, we fell into a nap worthy of a championship.

We woke up late, well after seven o'clock. We wanted to see more of the Copper Coast, but here everything seemed closed: barriers two metres high in the car parks, even in the viewpoints. I felt like a dog with a muzzle in front of a butcher's shop: so close and yet so far!

Even so, we managed to see from afar the famous Metal Man, a statue of a sailor on top of a column. He's been watching over the bay for more than two centuries, always dressed in white, always firm. I barked at him a couple of times to warn him that he already had canine reinforcements on his guard.

The route took us to Tramore, where Daddy, of course, devoted himself to shopping. When we left, it was already night, and we still had to find somewhere to sleep. We went back a bit and found the car park of Dunhill Castle. Huge, gravelled, empty, so silent that my barks echoed. Perfect for setting up our night headquarters.

Tomorrow we'll explore the castle. Tonight we're sleeping under the stars, me as a guard and Daddy as a retired driver, dreaming of vikings, cliffs and the next puddle to splash in.