I squealed all the way from my village, near Grimsby, to the Peterborough Motorway Service Station. I was nine weeks old and this was my ‘big day’. I travelled on a comfy lap, but I still squealed - this metal thing on wheels was a bit frightening.

My mum, aunties and uncles, came along with me - as they were having their eyes tested by a specialist in Peterborough. At the service station, I was handed over to my new people.

Miranda and Derek said they had chosen me because I was brown like my mum and granny.

They thought I might be a little bothered by my change of home - but I wasn’t at all. I wagged my tail vigorously to show my pleasure and then, during the journey to my new home, I looked soulfully into Miranda’s eyes until I fell asleep.

My next big event was a puppy party at the vet’s, where I charged around inviting other puppies to play with me.

At first, I did miss the rough and tumble at my new owners, but then it suddenly dawned on me that Miranda came into the kitchen/conservatory for several hours each day and this provided me with her two moving trousered legs to sink my teeth into. She did squeal, but I wasn’t bothered. Other toys, a polar bear, a bird, a duck, and a pheasant kept appearinf - but were not as good as those two moving legs.

Derek doesn’t like me biting his legs. He has a deep quiet bark and I understand what he is saying, but Miranda just squeals, “No” which means “Bite me again”. I think she thinks it’s a good game.

At my first South East Branch Basset Hound walk I met my granny, Leah (she looks just like me); and my great-uncle, Barnaby. I enjoyed the walk very much, but I was only allowed to walk for fifteen minutes with the rest of the pack who paid me very little attention - not like all the humans, who thought I was just wonderful. Well I am! The hounds will realise that later - especially the boys.

Miranda was finding me a bit of a handful, so she took me to puppy school. I learned to sit, stand, and walk on a lead. I was very good at sitting. My puppy school prize was for finding the treat under the flowerpots was a squeaky plastic human foot - though it’s not as good as the real thing.

I had another surprise outing when I was taken again by car (I was used to it by now) to the Peterborough Service Station. Here, lo and behold, was my beautiful mum, Hope, and my bouncy outgoing dad, Ike or Eisenhower. Ike is a champion and I’m like him in character. It was good to see them again, although it was all a bit of a mystery.

Why were we all going for a stroll around Peterborough Service Station?

Then it all became crystal-clear. Mum was put in the back of our car; she was coming home with me. She was quiet; but then, she’s always quiet.

After a three hour journey, we arrived back home in Ditchling.

Poor mum, she did seem a little bewildered at first. But she has me to snuggle up to and lick her face - well, especially after she’s eaten and there are tasty titbits left on her muzzle.

Mum had been with us for about a month when Miranda and Derek took us camping in their caravan. They were going to Crufts and we were left at a nearby kennel for the day. It was probably not the best camping trip I will ever have - I’m sure hoping for better.

The worst part of all was the return journey back to Ditchling, because about two hours from home, on the junction of the M25 and M4, the car broke down.

We were left marooned on a strip of land between the howling, deafening, noise of fast moving metal things that could be glimpsed through trees on either side. I could not hear myself think.

Mum, Miranda and I lay for four hours on one of my rugs, whilst Derek remained on lookout until the breakdown truck arrived. I was very well behaved - quite a strain.

We all travelled home in the most enormous monster, and the car travelled on the monster’s back, with the caravan pulled along behind on a lead, We finally arrived back in one piece - just about.

Mum has now been with us for almost three months. She used to quietly suppress the boisterous instincts I’ve inherited from dad with a quick quiver of her lip - so quick that Miranda and Derek didn’t seem to notice and wondered how she exercised such parental control.

Now, she has given in to my invitations to play. She charges at me all the way from the top to bottom of our very long garden. Sometimes, I have to dart away with my tail between my legs. She is very gentle, but oh so streamlined and fast - no match for me.

I have also been to ring-craft classes because Miranda thinks she may ‘show’ me - whatever that might mean.

Its all great fun and I get to meet a variety of very fine dogs - but, none like me. I do something called the ‘triangle’, where I’m walked in an odd way and get to say hello to all the other dogs around the ring. Then Miranda says, “Stand - stay stand”, whilst stuffing a treat into my mouth. I’m not sure what that is all about, but she and the trainer tell me that I’m beautiful. So, that’s OK.

Ring-craft classes are way past my bedtime, so I get home exhausted. Upon my return my mum wonders what I’ve been up to.

I don’t think I remember much about my former home any more and, recently, my shy mum has started to come out of her shell.

Yes, we two tough Northern lasses have settled down ‘reet well’ into our new soft Southern home.

WORDS BY ‘DILL’; DICTATED (VERY SLOWLY) TO MIRANDA HARRIS.