I learnt much from Allsorts.

He was a two year old Welsh, puppy farm dog sporting a defective right foreleg and in the care of N.C.D.L. - cruelly treated originally, and then living wild in Wales.

Just to steady him with a hand on his collar meant being bitten. Rather tentatively, I persevered - being strangely grateful to be bitten only once a week! Then, once a month, until after a year he permitted brushing and, eventually, ear cleaning - but never nail trimming.

Should we have given up on him in those early days? It came very close to this, but the answer is definitely not - for he would have been deprived of some nine years of contentment, unquestionable loyalty, and giving and receiving affection.

What a turn-around! He became a pussy cat (sorry Allsorts, bad choice of words).

After the first year it dawned on me that he was never aggressive, just over-protective of his person. I called it defensive aggression. Also, it was only me he would bite - a relief really.

You didn’t require of Allsorts you requested. You didn’t demand - you negotiated.

As we trained each other we developed a special rapport.

He enjoyed nothing better than to let strangers come up and fuss him. People were drawn to him more than our other hounds.

We knew he had a bad back, as Barnaby had been licking his spine for almost a year and Allsorts had been walking slowly for a couple of years needing frequent rests. Anti-inflammatory injections helped, but suddenly his back legs completely collapsed and he refused all food for four days. So, clearly the time had come.

As he slipped away, it was so sad to be stroking such a beautiful coat.

So, we are left with two well-behaved hounds we love to bits, but if by chance, K9 number fourteen (Basset no.8) happens to find us, I hope it will be a recreation of Allsorts as he was in his last years - bless him.