By Leslie Lindsay I really don’t want to wear out this topic, but I think I am on the verge of doing just that.  I love basset hounds.  I love them as much as I love salted carmel mochas from Starbucks, rainy days, and writing.  I love them as much as I love reading and eating carb-laden treats like pumkin bread.  And I love them as much as I love Colbie Caliet and romatic comedies.  I. Love. Basset.  Hounds!  Sigh… It’s been a long time coming.  I fell in love with the low-slung, droopy-eared breed when I was about 8 or 10…my grandmother (who recently passed away) sort of introduced me to them by way of her Beagle, “Lil’ Son” (a.k.a Sparky).  Sure, I liked Sparky, but what I liked even more was the basset hound I spied on the calendar at the dollar store at the mall when I was with grandma, “Oh, that looks like Sparky, only with longer ears!”  She set me straight–or long and floppy–and told me it was a basset …