Disclaimer: I do not own Psych. This makes me sad. Angsty maybe.
A/N: This idea came from last night. I was watching some Psych with my mom late at night. We were watching From Earth To Starbucks and when Henry calls Shawn near the end of the episode, he is yelling at Shawn for leaving foxglove (poisonous plant) on his front porch and he says something like "Shawn, you know I don't like finding dead things on my porch." I paused the show and turned to my mom and said, "Now, that sure does raise some questions." And so I came up with story. Got it? Good. Well, even if you don't, it's alright. Just telling you how I came up with the idea.
I do hope you like it.
This is also my first Psych fic. So. . .yeah.
Enough of my rambling.

1986

Santa Barbara

"Shawn!" An agitated Henry Spencer yelled from the front porch of his house. He wasn't sure how, but Shawn had something to do with it.

Henry waited for his young son to come and find out what he did wrong now.

He sighed when he heard Shawn's foot steps coming out to the porch. The door creaked when he slowly slipped through.

Shawn had no idea what he had done. But he knew that he was going to blamed for something. Probably grounded. Yeah. Grounded for sure. He could tell by the way his dad called his name. And how his dad was standing.

Great. Henry was pissed. Not good.

And Shawn had no idea what he had done wrong.

"Yes sir?" Shawn asked, looking up at his dad who seemed to be staring down at something on the porch floor.

"What is that, Shawn?" Henry didn't look up, just kept looking down at the floor.

Shawn shrugged and moved his gaze down, "I think it's a mouse."

"It's a shrew Shawn." Henry had to keep his tone calm. Explain things to the boy and he will learn. And grounding him never hurt either.

"What's a shrew?"

Henry sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a second, '"That is a shrew Shawn."

"Oh. Alright." Shawn looked at it. It looked a lot like a mouse to him. Maybe a deformed mouse. So cool!

Henry sighed deeply again as he saw a small smile grow on his son's face. "Shawn. I don't like finding dead things on my porch." Shawn quickly lost his smile, but he was laughing inside. Wait. Was his dad blaming him for the deformed shrew mouse? "Why did you put it here?" Okay. Shawn was being blamed.

"What?" The small boy asked, confused, "I didn't do it, dad."

"Then who did?" Henry asked, staying calm.

"Mrs. Pickles?" Shawn suggested after a length.

Henry raised an eyebrow, "Mrs. Pickles? Who is Mrs. Pickles?"

"A cat. . .?" The not quiet yet fake psychic answered.

"Your grounded for a week." With that the older man walked into the house, "Clean It Up." He yelled out to his son.

Shawn grabbed a stick and started poking the deformed shrew mouse. Interesting. It was still fresh. But who put it there? He dropped the stick and looked around. But there were no clues. He didn't see anything. Young Shawn chewed his lip thoughtfully. Leaning back, he almost put his hand on the deformed shrew mouse, "Gross." He paused and sighed. Better clean it up before his dad found it still there.

The Next Day

"Shawn!" A very agitated Henry Spencer yelled from the front porch of his house. Didn't his son learn?

Henry waited for his young son to come and find out what he did wrong now.

He sighed when he heard Shawn's foot steps coming out to the porch. The door creaked when he slowly slipped through.

Shawn had no idea what he had done. But he knew that he was going to blamed for something. Probably grounded. Yeah. Grounded for sure. More than a week.

Why were they back on the porch?

"Yes sir?" Shawn asked, looking up at his dad who seemed to be staring down at something on the porch floor again.

"What is that, Shawn?" Henry didn't look up, just kept looking down at the floor.

Shawn shrugged, "Is it another deformed shrew mouse?"

"Just a mouse this time." Henry said, a bit of anger showing through his voice.

"Oh. Alright." Shawn picked up the stick he had used the day before and poked it, "Hey. The regular non-shrew mouse has been here a lot longer than the deformed shrew mouse."

Henry started at his son. He just poked it. Henry's eye twitched, "Shawn. Stop poking it."

The stick fell.

"Sorry sir." Shawn's eyes fell to his feet.

"Why did you do this Shawn?" Henry was getting worried about his son. Did he have sociopath tendencies? Did he enjoy hurting the small animals?

Shawn's eyes flickered up to his father's face, "I didn't do it. It was Mrs. Pickles!"

"Another week." Henry said, going inside the house.

Great. Two weeks grounded. Shawn sighed as he saw his new friend join him on the porch.

"Hello Mrs. Pickles." He smiled, petting the yellow tabby who lived in the alley next to his house.

She purred and looked up at him.

"What?" He asked, unsure what the cat wanted, "I'm already petting you and I don't give you food until dad goes to sleep because he would be pissed if I was giving food to and alley cat. And you know these things."

Mrs. Pickles nudged the regular non-shrew mouse with her nose.

"It was you!" He exclaimed, "I can't believe it! I'm being grounded for what non-my cat did!"

The Next Next Day

"Shawn!" A confused Henry Spencer yelled from the front porch of his house. He wasn't sure how, but Shawn had something to do with it.

Henry waited for his young son to come and find out what he did now.

He sighed when he heard Shawn's foot steps coming out to the porch. The door creaked when he slowly slipped through.

Shawn had no idea what had happened.

"Yes sir?" Shawn asked, looking up at his dad who seemed to be staring down at something on the porch floor.

"What is that, Shawn?" Henry didn't look up, just kept looking down at the floor.

Shawn moved his gaze down, "That's Mrs. Pickles."

Deep sigh. His son had named the yellow tabby alley cat 'Mrs. Pickles'. His son had befriended this yellow tabby alley cat called 'Mrs. Pickles'

"Shawn. Sit down."

Shawn sat down next to Mrs. Pickles and his father. "Hey. What does she have in her mouth?"

"A present." Henry answered simply.

"A present?" Shawn was confused. How could a cat bring him a present?

Then Mrs. Pickles dropped a dead rabbit at Shawn's feet and then she meowed. Satisfied of herself.

The young Spencer blinked at the body. "Dad, why is she bringing us dead things?"

"You know how when you do good on a test and I put it up on fridge for us to see?" Henry started simply, getting a nod from Shawn, "Well this is the same concept. You are proud of the test. Well, Mrs. Pickles," Henry couldn't believe he just said that, "Is proud of what she caught. She wants to show it off."

"Oh. I get it." Shawn said, nodding. Mrs. Pickles loved him! Awesome! "Can we keep her?"

"No." Henry said, right away, "But we can't just let her live in the alley either. We will take to a pet shelter where she can get a home. As we are not her home. Know why we cannot and will not be her home, Shawn?"

Shawn thought for a moment, "No sir."

"Because I don't like finding dead things on my porch."