Cornelius
Abby Scuito hurried into the front door of the House of Gibbs and called excitedly for Tony Dinozzo. "Tony, quickly! Come here and see what I have!"
Tony acknowledged her summons from the upstairs hall. "Just as soon as I vacuum by the linen closet. And a word to the wise, you'd better have finished downstairs before Gibbs gets back."
In their years under the tutelage of Team Leader and NCIS head honcho agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Tony and Abby had forged a bond that spilled from the workplace and into the home front. Gradually Jethro's senior field agent and his forensic scientist had moved completely into his home. There the trio functioned as its own family unit, though Gibbs consistently denied the obvious and contradicted any observers who insisted he served as a pseudo parent to the younger two.
Tony had endured a nomadic childhood with an absentee parent and his role in the House of Gibbs empowered him emotionally. Abby, reared in the South to a structured family, needed and treasured those family bonds she created with Gibbs and Tony in Washington, D.C.
As for Jethro, the loss of his wife and daughter had crippled him emotionally for a number of years before he even met Abby and Tony. By then he deliberately distanced himself from any possibilities of bonding with others. Thus, it required both Tony's and Abby's best efforts to carve inroads and form an attachment with the uncooperative Gibbs.
But they succeeded.
And they thrived.
This particular Saturday the team had escaped weekend duty at the NCIS Agency. Jethro sidelined Abby and Tony with housecleaning orders while he shopped for groceries. Months before he had begun excluding them from grocery shopping because of their exasperating grocery store behavior. Once the metal shopping cart left its corral the two transformed into petulant teens whining for one product or another.
Despite their adult appearance, in the grocery store chronological ages presented a mere façade and the duo gravitated towards one advertising gimmick after another. That frazzled Jethro's nerves.
This Saturday Gibbs planned to stop by NCIS first for a couple of hours. The Director had requested his presence in MTAC for a consultation with the Secretary of the Navy.
Back at the House of Gibbs Tony had just stored the upstairs vacuum in the hall closet and taken an appraising look around the area when Abby raced up the stairs.
"I couldn't wait!" she exclaimed, dark pigtails flying about her. Tall and slender, Abby's green eyes and dark hair combined to produce the appearance of a vivacious sprite, or perhaps of a perpetually cheerful elf.
People glanced twice at Tony. His green eyes and brown hair combined with a wonderful physique which caused him to stand out appearance wise.
They were an attractive twosome, though they existed under a pseudo-sibling bond.
Tony shut the closet door and turned his attention to his housemate. "Did you win the lottery?" he teased. "Or maybe you discovered a hidden vein of gold running through the backyard?"
"No," she giggled. "Not that, but look-" Abby opened her hands to reveal a fuzzy, tiny, solid black kitten.
"Whoa!"
"Cute, huh? I found him right on the edge of the curb at that house caddy corner from here."
Tony reached over and stroked the minute body. "He's a pretty little thing."
"He could be a she." Abby frowned thoughtfully. "Hold on a sec," she directed. Abby lifted the kitty by the scruff of his neck and peered at his underside. "Ok, good call. He's a he. Or a him. Or a himself."
"What happened to his mama? The little guy will need her."
Abby stroked the tiny face. "Well, that presents the dilemma. There wasn't a mama cat in sight but I am positive he must be less than a couple of months old. Just as confusing, I didn't find any other babies either. Cats usually give birth to more than one kitty cat per litter."
Tony slipped the baby from her and cuddled it in one palm. It immediately began sucking on the skin of his thumb with its tiny pink mouth. He frowned with concern. "Something must have happened to the mother."
"Poor thing is hungry," Abby observed. "He needs some mama milk and soon. He must have starved already and he only has an itty bitty tummy."
"Well, we're fresh out," Tony observed. "However, that pet shop by the Piggly Wiggly grocery should have some supplies. Want me to drive down there?"
Abby took the cat back from Tony and rubbed it against her cheek. "Yes, please. If you'll do that, I'll use the alone time to conjure up a foolproof argument to convince Gibbs we need to keep it."
"Good luck with that," Tony answered worriedly, jangling his car keys. "Chances are he'll say to take it to the shelter."
Abby frowned. "I know. One hundred per cent of his response will be a-no-question-about-it-absolutely-not."
Ten minutes later Tony discovered the pet store carried much more than milk for kitties. Prioritizing, he followed the instructions of an employee and selected formula milk and small bottles for their wee baby. After that he wandered aimlessly through the store for several minutes before returning to the cat section. Another employee engaged him in conversation and Tony grabbed a small pet bed and a few cat toys, along with the litter pan and litter yet another helpful employee recommended.
After tallying the purchases the teenaged cashier informed him that his bill ran to seventy five dollars and nineteen cents. Tony regarded her with wide eyed shock. "You can't be serious! What could I have possible bought that would cause you to exploit me like this?"
"To start," the cashier smacked a bubble in her chewing gum and defended herself, "You chose the ultra deluxe kitty comfort bed. Now you could have gone with the standard bed, or even the midline one, but you opted for that luxurious feel and…."
Tony scowled and interrupted her. "Ok, forget the bed. What else costs the same as a mortgage?"
The cashier raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really? That kitty scratching post has an inner core of sisal fiber imported…"
"Forget it then," Tony accepted the financial blow and softened his tone. "You defeated me, or actually that kitten back home did." He reached into his wallet and peeled off a handful of bills.
"No worries," the young lady batted her eyes. Now that her customer appeared compliant she responded to his good looks. "I'll be happy to help you set up your supplies at your house. Or probably now you deserve a night out on the town to celebrate your newest family member," she added suggestively.
Normally Tony would counter an open invitation, but today he remained fixated on the welfare of the kitty. His childhood had lacked pets of any shape or form, other than imaginary ones, and the idea of time with the little furball pleased him.
He regarded the cashier sadly and held out his hand for the change. "Unfortunately the kitty belongs to a senior citizen couple confined to a nursing home," he lied extemporaneously. "Bless their really old hearts. They depend on me for their very sustenance and today they finalized their wills, leaving me custodial caretaker of their cat."
The young lady's happy mood evaporated. She shoved Tony's package into his arms and dismissed him. "Thanks and come again. Next!"
Once Tony returned he found Abby had rearranged some of the contents of the laundry room to create a semi private space for the kitty. In the interim she had contained the little fellow in the confines of an empty clothes basket.
Tony cuddled the kitten as he unloaded the purchases. He and Abby worked efficiently to set up the area and then to camouflage it. When they at last agreed that it was practically Gibbs proof they turned their full attention back to their tiny visitor.
"We should bathe him first to get rid of any fleas and then feed him," Abby directed. The two worked together and Abby, who did have a background with pets, tutored a cooperative Tony.
The kitten reacted angrily to the bath and Abby assured Tony that an older cat would have left painful, permanent scars and they should be grateful for the superficial scratches from the kitten's minute claws. They dried the little one and despite his upset he greedily polished off an entire bottle of the milk, closed his eyes, and drifted sound asleep on his back, paws in the air.
Abby and Tony grinned conspiratorially at each other.
She leaned backwards to check the kitchen clock. "Uhm, Gibbs will walk through the door soon. Stay strong, Tony. We have each other's back."
"Act normal when you see him."
"You know he has that sixth sense of his anytime we try to sneak something past him."
"True," Tony agreed. "But in the interim, let's collaborate and think of some names for Garfield in there. How about Fido?"
Abby stared at him incredulously. "Have you lost your mind? Fido's a dog name. Puff or Fluffy- those are cat names."
They lapsed into thoughtful silence.
Finally Tony offered, "Skunk."
"Powderpuff," Abby countered.
"Tiger."
"Sugar."
"Felix."
"Kissee."
"Hank."
"Sugarplum."
"Roscoe."
"Dar…wait, what did you say?" Abby questioned.
Tony put his hands on his hips. "Roscoe. It sounds strong and tough and the little guy deserves a lumberjack's name."
Abby grinned at the image. "I like the sound of that. Roscoe it is. But I want Pretty Boy for his middle name."
"Roscoe Pretty Boy. Ros…..coe...Pret…ty…..Boy," Tony enunciated slowly. "I believe we can fill out his birth certificate. We are his parents, after all." Tony grinned and raised his eyebrows.
The distinct sound of Gibbs returning sent them scurrying from the laundry room.
Dealing with groceries and supper preparations took up a couple of hours but Abby and Tony managed to sneak into the laundry room separately several times to check on the baby. They found it difficult to leave the cute animal once they did, however. Quite the entertainer, Little Roscoe had discovered the stash of toys Tony had procured and he played with them across the floor, behind the dryer, into his bed, and under the sink.
Both Tony and Abby had plans for the evening made prior to the kitten's arrival, and they carried on a whispered consultation about leaving Roscoe alone for several hours. They debated the probability of Gibbs wandering into the laundry room and catching the little guy and created several hypothetical situations. Eventually they concluded a few hours on the town wouldn't hurt.
Thus, the evening passed without incident.
So did the next day.
Monday Abby sneaked home at lunch and transported Roscoe to the veterinarian for an exam. The doctor assured her the kitten was in good health but determined the little fellow couldn't be more than five weeks old.
His office staff assured her they would post flyers in the waiting room to aid in the effort to find an adoptive family. Abby thanked them but explained she and Tony wanted to delay adoption plans a while longer. They felt the kitten should mature a bit more before they initiated a search for his permanent home.
The rest of the week passed just as smoothly as the weekend had with Gibbs none the wiser to his four legged houseguest.
Abby and Tony continued the subterfuge.
Thanks to Jethro's habit of spending his evenings basement bound, the two had managed to fly under Jethro's radar.
Meanwhile little Roscoe Pretty Boy's personality emerged as his tiny body strengthened.
But suppertime Friday night proved the undoing of the intricate secrecy.
Before Tony and Abby could react to stop him, Leroy Jethro Gibbs opened the door to the laundry room and to a Pandora's box of discoveries.
Roscoe Pretty Boy scampered to the Gunny with delight, and as Jethro's vision, training, and intellect attempted to sort the evidence in front of him, Roscoe gleefully climbed up the leg of his slacks.
His bellow for Abby and Tony summoned them at a run.
Gibbs reached down and gently loosened Roscoe's grip on his clothing. He cupped the kitten in both hands before turning to regard their wide eyed shock.
"What….. is….. this…..?" he hissed the question in a staccato burst of syllables.
Tony feigned surprise and narrowed his eyes to focus. "Wow, what is that?"
"And how did it creep into the laundry room?" Abby added with a voice full of concern.
Roscoe's little head popped up and he began to crawl up Jethro's arm with his tiny legs. Gibbs instinctively hardened his grip to halt the progress and slid the kitty over his heart. He absentmindedly smoothed the fur with a forefinger as he paced the laundry area.
He observed.
And drew conclusions.
Toys scattered most of the floor space and Roscoe's bed took up one corner.
Jethro licked his lips and narrowed his gaze at Tony and Abby. "Cats and I have no tolerance for each other. You know this. And yet, in my own home I discover this…."
"Roscoe," Tony interrupted.
Abby interjected at the same time, "Pretty Boy, Gibbs. His name is Roscoe Pretty Boy."
"I don't care!" Jethro raised his voice. Roscoe whimpered at the sound and he brought the kitty's face up to his own and softened his tone. "Got your six," he promised the animal.
Gibbs motioned them out of the laundry room and into the living room. They slid into seats and Roscoe ran circuits from Jethro's lap to the sofa arm and sofa back before returning to the Gunny and repeating himself. Gibbs held out a finger each time the kitten leapt back into his lap and Roscoe grabbed it with all four paws before leaping away.
Tony and Abby exchanged confused glances.
"Speak!" Gibbs ordered.
So the two guilty parties chronicled the events of the past Saturday and provided an account of the subsequent days. They assured Gibbs they understood their culpability but that protecting the little creature had motivated their actions. They knew Jethro would not welcome a cat for any length of time and didn't know any other way to handle the situation.
Gibbs focused upon them the entire conversation but kept track of Roscoe with his peripheral vision.
When Tony and Abby finally ran out of their combined explanation they sat uncomfortably perched on the edge of their seats awaiting Jethro's response.
He left them to stew a couple of extremely long minutes before he addressed them.
"Find him a home," he commanded with a clipped, no nonsense tone.
"We could put him outside in the back until then," Tony suggested.
Abby offered, "We should be able to create some kind of outdoor shelter for him."
"Until you find him an owner, his home remains inside this house," Gibbs decided. "He's a baby." Sensing his ally had graciously welcomed his stay, Roscoe curled up in Jethro's lap, replete, and throbbed his appreciation. "Laundry room's fine for him right now but go ahead and create some of those advertising thingamajigs for the vet's office." Jethro transferred the kitty from his lap to his chest and got to his feet. "Post date it so they know Cornelius won't be ready for adoption for another three weeks or so."
"Cornelius?" Abby questioned, her tone of voice tinged with displeasure.
Evidently also displeased, Tony frowned, "Boss, didn't you like…."
"Cornelius," Gibbs replied firmly.
Abby glanced at Tony and twirled a pigtail. "Well, in that case, why Cornelius?"
"Knew a cat named Cornelius once," Jethro offered as his taciturn explanation. He stood and carried the little kitten back to the laundry room. "Leave the laundry room door open so he can explore his environment."
And that was that.
Abby and Tony never figured out whether Jethro actually had prior experience with cats, nor did he enlighten them to his reasons for accepting Cornelius.
As an ironic lesson, little Cornelius far preferred Gibbs over the companionship of Abby or Tony, and he lost no opportunity in establishing a pattern of playing and cuddling with the team leader.
A month later Cornelius began his new, permanent life with a family who lived just half a block from the House of Gibbs. The three children in the household exposed Cornelius to years of love and attention and delighted in him.
Tony and Abby graciously packed all of his possessions for his new address.
Despite Jethro's denial, all three missed their tiny fuzzball afterwards.
The kitten, however, created his own itinerary. Once his owners installed a pet door, he worked out his own travel plan and visitation schedule. Cornelius would slide through the pet door, cross the street, and wait on the doorstep at zero dark thirty each morning to greet Jethro once he stepped outside to collect the newspaper. Then Cornelius would follow him inside, visit a bit, and eventually meow for Jethro to show him out.
On the rare occasions when Jethro failed to greet him Cornelius would refuse to follow Abby or Tony indoors.
He would simply leave.
Thus, the once orphaned little kitty spent the remainder of his days loved and pampered- all thanks to his stint at the House of Gibbs.