Man and dog travel France on a Vespa

"For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go," wrote Robert Louis Stevenson in Travels with a Donkey. "I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move."

Many of us often feel the same, but, of course, we cannot always get up and go simply because we want to. At the moment, for example, I'm preoccupied with several projects that need constant and careful attention. However, although I cannot now absent myself physically, I may, imaginatively, journey an hour or two each day in the company of celebrated explorers, scholars, scientists and soldiers as well as plain wayfarers.

Indeed the wayfarers—real and imaginary—are often more entertaining than the determined seekers of far horizons. For example, who could be a more engaging, informative, as well as hilarious guide to the Mississippi River than Mark Twain? Surely, Jules Verne's ever-resourceful Phileas Fogg is a wonderful companion to tag along with on his 80-day race around the globe. And Stevenson's do-or-die, ever-faithful donkey, Modestine, has captured the hearts of armchair travelers for more than a century.

Stevenson's and Modestine's arduous journey through the Cevennes region of southern France in 1878 came to mind this week as I read Gregory Edmont's, Spotted in France, a delightful account of a contemporary jaunt from Paris to Provence.

Edmont's four-footed companion was not a long-suffering donkey, but a wise and energetic Dalmatian named JP. The initials are the abbreviation for the pure-bred's full name, Jarny-Princ du Bois-de-Tanagra. He is a descendant of a noble line of his breed. However, he retains the common touch. He loves most people and is loved in return. He displays innate manners and a sense of the proprieties, as well as a lively sense of fun.

Indeed, it is through JP that American Edmont is able to blend into the French culture. Edmont was a somewhat lonely student at the Sorbonne until he purchased JP from Madame Clix, a well-known dog breeder. Voila! As soon as Edmont strolled out with JP on a leash, strangers smiled at them. Previously aloof neighbors said, "Bonjour!" One friend assured Edmont that "Till now, you have been merely a resident of Paris. JP is your passport to France." And so it was. The pair were soon welcomed in restaurants, where the proprietors always had something delicious for JP.

Edmont bought a Vespa so that he could travel about the country. JP instantly took his place on the scooter's footrest and went along for the ride. Both master and dog wore goggles and helmets. Motorists honked and smiled. Parisian traffic policemen waved them through crowded intersections.

All at once, Dalmatian and man are called upon to aid the Madame Clix. It is a literal mission of love. Mating season approaches and because of unforeseen events, the pure bred JP must perform as stud. Edmont will be rewarded with a substantial stud fee. However, there is little time to spare. The breeder lives more than 500 miles south, near Grimaud. With the aid of a travel guide, Edmont maps out a route of rural roads, safe for a slow-moving Vespa.

Soon, he and JP are on the road to Grimaud and adventure. Along the way, they are accorded royal welcomes at five-star restaurants (courtesy of Madame Clix). They befriend an ancient shepherd and his flock. They are diverted from their trek for a few hours in order to visit the chateau once owned by the family of Edmond Rostand, author of Cyrano de Bergerac.

At a rural checkpoint, they are pulled aside by a stern policeman. He insists on taking them to the local station for questioning. Tiring of rude treatment, they manage to escape. That night they sleep in a meadow and are awakened the following morning by a coven of witches, who practice white—not black—magic. They also repair autos and scooters.

Next they pick up a Catholic priest, whose car has broken down. And so it goes, as they chug south to the rescue of Madame Clix and JP's season of love. But there are also serious problems ahead.

Spotted in France is a delightful, charming and surprisingly poignant tale of dogs and humans, good times and sorrows. It's a worthwhile journey. And you don't have to leave home to enjoy it.

Charlie Langdon is the Herald's senior critic.