Dogsbody Read Online Free Page A

but the cloth on Kathleen’s was old and frayed. Basil’s feet were surprisingly large. While Sirius was sniffing them, Basil leaned down, and called him Shamus O’Cat.
    “I’m thinking of calling him Leo, really,” said Kathleen.
    “Rat would be better,” said Basil. “Shamus Rat.”
    “Told you so,” said Robin.
    There was a new pair of feet present belonging to someone Basil and Robin called Dad, and Kathleen called Uncle Harry. They were the largest feet of all, most interestingly cased in leather, withbeautiful strings which came undone when they were bitten. Sirius backed away, his tail whipping, rumbling with delight, a taut shoelace clenched between his teeth.
    A voice spoke, more like a clap of thunder than a voice.
“Drop that!”
    Sirius let go at once and meekly went on to the last pair of feet, which were Duffie’s. He did not like Duffie, nor the smell of Duffie, but her feet were interesting. The leather on them was only in straps, leaving the ends bare. The ends of both feet divided into a number of stumpy lumps with hard, flat claws on them that looked quite useless. He nosed them wonderingly.
    “Get out of it!” said the cold voice.
    Sirius obligingly retreated, and—whether it was his dislike of Duffie or simply a call of nature, he did not know—left a puddle between the two sets of toes.
    “Oh Leo!” Kathleen plunged down on the spot with a cloth.
    “Dirty Shamus Rat!” said Basil.
    “That creature—” began Duffie.
    The thunderous voice cut in, rumbling peaceably. “Now, now. You’ve had your say, Duffie. And
I
say a house isn’t complete without a dog. What did you say his name was, Kathleen?”
    Sirius gathered that he was safe. What the thunderous voice said in this place, the other people obeyed. He went on exploring the room while they argued about what to call him.
    The argument was never entirely settled. In the days that followed, Sirius found himself answering to Leo, Shamus, Shamus O’Cat, Shamus Rat, Rat, Dog and That Creature. More names wereadded as time went on and then dropped. These were the most constant. Basil called him most of them. Duffie called him That Dog or That Creature. Robin usually called him Leo when he was alone with Kathleen, and Shamus if Basil was there. The thunderous voice never called him anything at all. Neither did the cats. Before long, it was only Kathleen who ever called him Leo.
    Sirius did not mind. He could tell by the tone of their voices when they meant him, and he answered to that. He liked Kathleen’s voice best. It was soft, with a lilt in it which none of the others had, and usually meant he was going to be fed or stroked. Duffie’s voice was the one he liked least and, next to hers, Basil’s. When Basil called him, it was to flip his nose or roll him painfully about. Even if he did neither of these things, Basil made Sirius feel small and weak, or troubled him by staring jeeringly at his eyes.
    His eyes soon lost the milky, puppy look. They became first grass-green, then a lighter, wilder color. “Wolf’s eyes,” said Basil, and added The Wolf temporarily to the names he called Sirius. About that time, Sirius discovered he could eat from a dish and gave up feeding from a bottle. He grew. And grew. And went on growing.
    “Is this thing of yours going to turn out to be a horse?” wondered the thunderous voice, in one of its rare moments of interest.
    “A Great Dane perhaps?” Robin suggested.
    “Oh, I hope not!” Kathleen said, knowing how much Leo ate already. Sirius realized she was worried and wagged his tail consolingly outside his basket. It was a long, strong tail by this time, and he filled the basket to overflowing.
    His tail was a great trial to everyone. He would wag it. He beat dust out of the carpet with it every time one of the household came into the room. He meant it as politeness. In a cloudy part of his mind, which he could never quite find, he knew he was grateful to them—even to Duffie—for