Nat the Naturalist | Page 3

with Buzzy, my aunt's great tabby tom-cat; and for pretending that Nap
was a lion in the African desert. But I'll tell you that in a chapter to
itself, for these matters had a good deal to do with the alteration in my
mode of life.
CHAPTER TWO.
FIRST THOUGHTS OF HUNTING.
As I told you, my uncle had no children, and the great house at
Streatham was always very quiet. In fact one of my aunt's strict
injunctions was that she should not be disturbed by any noise of mine.
But aunt had her pets--Buzzy, and Nap.
Buzzy was the largest striped tom-cat, I think, that I ever saw, and very
much to my aunt's annoyance he became very fond of me, so much so
that if he saw me going out in the garden he would leap off my aunt's
lap, where she was very fond of nursing him, stroking his back,
beginning with his head and ending by drawing his tail right through
her hand; all of which Buzzy did not like, but he would lie there and
swear, trying every now and then to get free, but only to be held down
and softly whipped into submission.
Buzzy decidedly objected to being nursed, and as soon as he could get
free he would rush after me down the garden, where he would go
bounding along, arching his back, and setting up the fur upon his tail.
Every now and then he would hide in some clump, and from thence
charge out at me, and if I ran after him, away he would rush up a tree
trunk, and then crouch on a branch with glowing eyes, tearing the while
with his claws at the bark as if in a tremendous state of excitement,

ready to bound down again, and race about till he was tired, after which
I had only to stoop down and say, "Come on," when he would leap on
to my back and perch himself upon my shoulder, purring softly as I
carried him round the grounds.
I used to have some good fun, too, with Nap, when my aunt was out;
but she was so jealous of her favourite's liking for me that at last I
never used to have a game with Nap when she was at home.
Buzzy could come out and play quietly, but Nap always got to be so
excited, lolling out his tongue and yelping and barking with delight as
he tore round after me, pretending to bite and worry me, and rolling
over and over, and tumbling head over heels as he capered and bounded
about.
I think Nap was the ugliest dog I ever saw, for he was one of those dirty
white French poodles, and my aunt used to have him clipped, to look
like a lion, as she said, and have him washed with hot soap and water
every week.
Nothing pleased Nap better than to go out in the garden with me, but I
got into sad trouble about it more than once.
"Look at him, Joseph," my aunt would say, "it's just as if it was done on
purpose to annoy me. Beautifully washed as he was yesterday, and now
look at him with his curly mane all over earth, and with bits of straw
and dead leaves sticking in it. If you don't send that boy away to a
boarding-school I won't stay in the house."
Then my uncle would look troubled, and take me into his own room,
where he kept his books and garden seeds.
"You mustn't do it, Nat, my boy, indeed you mustn't. You see how it
annoys your aunt."
"I didn't think I was doing any harm, uncle," I protested. "Nap jumped
out of the window, and leaped up at me as if he wanted a game, and I
only raced round the garden with him."

"You didn't rub the earth and dead leaves in his coat then, Nat?" said
my uncle.
"Oh no!" I said; "he throws himself on his side and pushes himself
along, rubs his head on the ground, sometimes on one side, sometimes
on the other. I think it's because he has got f--"
"Shush! Hush! my dear boy," cried my uncle, clapping his hand over
my lips. "If your aunt for a moment thought that there were any insects
in that dog, she would be ill."
"But I'm sure that there are some in his coat, uncle," I said, "for if you
watch him when he's lying on the hearth-rug to-night, every now and
then he jumps up and snaps at them, and bites the place."
"Shush! yes, my boy," he whispered; "but don't talk about it. Your aunt
is so particular. It's a secret between us."
I couldn't help smiling at