Martes minúsculo.

For tiny Tuesday, Buster eyes up one of the baby tortoises before running away: he doesn't know what to make of it.
There was a very blipworthy event in the morning, but sadly with no camera or phone to record it. Buster hurled himself barking at some workmen on steps by the water, before stopping dead in astonishment - he was belly-deep in wet cement from the new steps they were laying. I'm used to seeing animal footprints in cement, but never the whole body print. Luckily the men laughed about it, and a dunk in the cala got the worst of it off, followed by a shower later.