Some years ago, my nieces gave me a lovely, but very flat koala. Oh, not a real one; he is made from soft sheepskin.
I christened him Licorice, in recognition of my favorite confectionery. He has covered many kilometers with me, never complaining about being squashed into my suitcase.
He particularly enjoyed being held by a pretty Italian girl in Pompeii; I had a hard time getting him to come back to me. (Fickle.)
Overindulgence in a newly discovered delight in Sorrento lead to him staying in a dark room the next day, and missing the trip to Positano. He said “I’ll never touch that limoncello again, I swear.”
In Padua, I had a hard time convincing him that the bidet really wasn’t a koala size bath tub; he can be so stubborn sometimes.
Where to next, good and faithful companion?