If you've visited Clyne Gardens in Swansea , you might have noticed the mini graveyard that sits near its entrance.
Buried here are the beloved guard dogs of Algernon Walker-Heneage-Vivian, also known as The Admiral, who inherited the Clyne estate in 1921.
There are about 15 dog graves at the gardens which date around the 1930s.
The Admiral joined the Royal Navy in 1886, as a midshipman on the battleship HMS Triumph and at the age of 29, in 1900, was promoted as commander.
He retired from active service in 1920, however, his naval promotions continued with him becoming vice-admiral in 1923 and full admiral in 1927.
In her 1997 book, Water Under The Bridge, his daughter, Rhoda Campbell, described him as "a tall man with very blue eyes and a grey beard". She says he had a sense of humour, but was a stern father.
The Admiral was fond of dogs. He particularly liked smooth haired black-and-tan Manchester Terriers, though he also kept Sable Collies and a mixed-breed.
Rhoda wrote: "As the dogs died they were buried on a mound in the wooded glade above the cinder path leading round the top of the Park field.
"Each one had a carved stone with its name on it."
She said it was her job, along with her Ann, to keep the graves weed-free.
The first Manchester Terriers they had were named Jolly and Winnie. They then had some called Merry, Cheeky, Snappy, Saucy, Happy, Dopey, and according to Rhoda, the list went on.
The dogs apparently slept in baskets and armchairs, which were spread around the castle at night to guard it.
Rhoda said: "One night the one stationed by the great hall barked and barked and my father went down to investigate and found Merry still with fright, hackles raised and staring fixedly into the rather ghostly-looking dark hall."
Outside, The Admiral kept a "fierce mongrel dog" he called Snatcher on a "long sliding chain near a kennel".
In three more kennels lived three "lovely big sable collies".
One was called Lassie, while the other two were her puppies. They were also there to guard the castle, roaming around all day and night.
Rhoda said: "They spent most of their days pressed against the side door in the chance of someone coming out with a biscuit or the promise of a walk.
"Just inside the door was a chest of drawers full of dog biscuits of every sort and size.
"The collies knew all about his and were ever hopeful.
"They became so soppy and lazy that I do not think they would ever have raised a fierce alarm."
Rhoda's book is available from Swansea libraries .
