"Are you sure about this, Abby?" asked Tim McGee nervously as he and Abby walked into his apartment.

"Of course, Timmy, it's going to be g-r-e-a-t," said Abby Sciuto enthusiastically.

"Huh," said Tim a little gloomily as he remembered other things which Abby had asserted would be great. If only he could learn to resist her big eyes … and surprisingly aggressive punches … and the teasing about where her latest tattoo had been placed, "I don't know …"

"It will be company for you," said Abby firmly, "And how could you resist this little cutie?" She squeezed the puppy she was clasping to her bosom. The puppy, apparently not appreciating how lucky it was, gave a little yip at being held so firmly. "Ooh, did I scare you," cooed Abby as she lifted the little dog so she could gaze into its eyes before bestowing a kiss on its head.

Tim shook his head as he tried to dispel memories of when Abby had held him so close and gazed so lovingly into his eyes. No, they were better off as they were … and besides, who knew what chaos Abby would lead him into if they were still an item? There was enough mayhem in Special Agent McGee's life when he and Abby were simply friends.

"I don't know …" he tried again, "I mean, what will Jethro think?"

"Jethro will love him," said Abby sternly, "They'll be company for one another."

Tim felt his mind was stuck on a loop, "I don't know … Jethro is …" Tim struggled as he tried to explain what Jethro was but, despite a review of his novel which had admired his mastery of words, he found himself struggling for the right ones to convey the Jethroness of Jethro.

"Where is Jethro?" asked Abby as she looked around the apartment – the ground floor apartment Tim had had to move to once he had acquired Jethro.

"Out, I guess. He really is the cat who walks by himself, you know."

Abby waved an admonitory finger as much as she could without jiggling the puppy too much, "Well, you haven't been doing the socialising exercises that I gave you. You should be getting him to make friends, you know. Make playdates for him."

There was much about Abigail Sciuto that Tim didn't understand but the suggestion that he should be arranging playdates for Jethro indicated afresh the gulf in the ways in which their minds worked.

"If you don't think I'm looking after him right, then perhaps you should take him," he suggested.

"I wouldn't do that," said Abby in horror, "It would be too traumatic for both of you."

Tim sighed; he hadn't expected that the appeal would work but he tried another track, "You know, if you're so concerned about me not making friends for Jethro then perhaps you should take the puppy … you know, I'm sure you'd be better for him than I would." Tim tried the effect of puppy dog eyes.

"But you're the one with the ground floor apartment and the yard," said Abby, "It's perfect for a puppy."

"But it's a small apartment," argued Tim, "There's barely room for me and Jethro … and add in a puppy …"

"Nonsense. Besides he's only a small puppy. Aren't you, my little puppy-wuppy?" she cooed once more to the dog.

Tim looked sceptically at the puppy's large feet but knew that further argument was futile, "But it's just until you find someone else? Understood?"

"Yes, of course …" but Abby didn't cross her heart and hope to die so Tim was doubtful about this. At least, with both arms full of dog, she was unable to cross her fingers although Tim wouldn't be surprised if she was somehow managing to cross her toes under cover of her Doc Martens.

"What type of dog do you think he is?" asked Tim as he looked at the shaggy bundle in his friend's arms.

"I don't know," said Abby, "Apart from being a real cutie," she kissed the puppy once more.

"Cute?" said Tim doubtfully.

Abby turned outraged eyes on Tim, "Timothy McGee! Are you being lookist?"

"Am I being what-ist?"

"Lookist. Are you judging this poor little abandoned mite on his looks?"

"Sure, why wouldn't I? You've got to admit he's not exactly … good-looking …"

Abby gasped and managed to put a hand over the puppy's ears, "Don't you listen to McGrumpy … he doesn't know what he's talking about. You're a handsome boy, aren't you?"

Tim forbore to point out that the puppy wouldn't be able to hear the compliment with Abby's hand over his ears … and wouldn't understand even if he could hear. His life was complicated enough without getting mired in a discussion about how much his canine guest understood about what was going on.

The MCRT team had, in the course of another investigation, come across the remnants of a puppy farm. The sorry looking (in Tim's opinion) dog currently residing in Abby's arms had been the only occupant left as apparently nobody wanted the little creature. Unfortunately (in Tim's opinion) Abby had learned of the puppy's existence and had insisted that he could not be left to the mercies of an animal shelter. McGee had put up a spirited resistance to the idea that he should take charge of the puppy but, as he had previously been persuaded (aka terrorised) into taking Jethro the cat, the resistance had been futile and he was now the (temporary, in Tim's opinion) guardian of an odd looking puppy.

"He can go in Jethro's basket," said Tim, deciding to move things along.

"But it's Jethro's basket," protested Abby, "You don't want to get their relationship off to a bad start. You don't want Jethro to feel that your new friend is usurping his position; you don't want to make him doubt your love for him …"

The words relationship, usurp and love all made Tim feel a little nauseous, but it had been a long day and he didn't want to argue, "He never sleeps in it," he said flatly.

"Ahh," said Abby, "He prefers to sit on your lap, does he?"

"Sometimes," lied Tim, "But mostly he prefers that lumpy chair." Abby opened her mouth to protest that Tim should get Jethro a comfortable chair, but Tim forestalled her, "Why not put him in the basket?"

Abby frowned but remembered that it was bowling night with the nuns and that she'd be in trouble if she was late, "OK. But we need to think of a name for him."

"We do?"

"Of course."

"Why of course?"

"Having a name will make him feel wanted … and loved."

The nausea returned, "But won't it confuse him when he goes to his new home and they change his name?" asked Tim hopefully and cunningly.

It was a good argument, but one which Abby ignored, "Tony," she announced, "We'll call him Tony."

"Tony?"

"Tony."

"Don't I get a say in this?"

"I guess. What do you want to call him?"

Tim did a hasty calculation and decided that it would be better to accept Abby's suggestion than to make one of his own which could lead to her deciding that he wanted the dog after all, "Fine, Tony it is."

Abby placed Tony in the basket, "Stay! Good boy! Stay!" she patted him firmly, "Stay."

Tony looked up at her in bewilderment, turned around three times before lying down and promptly falling asleep: like Tim, he had had a long day.

"Oh, bless," sighed Abby, "I'll just pop out to the car and get his stuff. You stay here … don't want him to feel abandoned, do we?"

Tim shook his head helplessly and watched as Abby made two journeys to her car to get the various items she had decided were essential when they had stopped off at the pet store on their way to Tim's apartment, "I hope we got enough," she said anxiously when she had brought everything in.

As most of the sofa was piled high with packages, Tim thought it was a fair bet that he enough to supply an entire dog shelter … and he toyed, unworthily, with the idea that he could perhaps bribe one to take Tony along with all his paraphernalia.

Tony managed to sleep through all of Abby's unpacking and her exaggeratedly quiet departure. As the door closed gently behind her, Tim breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at the slumbering puppy and thought that perhaps it wouldn't be too bad after all.

He looked up as the cat flap door swished open and shut and Jethro arrived. Tim held his breath. Actually, holding his breath was something that Tim did frequently when he and Jethro were in the same room. Jethro was a silvered American Shorthair cat – well, according to Abby he was a pedigree rather than some other type of cat – large, powerful and in the peak of condition. He was also, as Tim had pointed out, the cat who walked by himself. He occasionally wrapped himself around Tim's legs but that was usually if Tim had become absorbed in an on-line game and forgotten to feed him. He had a cool blue gaze which he frequently turned on Tim and which Tim fought not to squirm under. Tim could never imagine calling himself Jethro's owner – he was pretty clear about who was in charge in the McGee household.

"Hey, Jethro," he said, "We've got … er … we've got a houseguest … just temporary … and you don't use that basket, do you?" Tim was an experienced federal agent and rarely stammered now while on duty, but he had to admit that he was babbling as he tried to reconcile Jethro to the new arrival.

Jethro was a formidable hunter who, fortunately for Tim's peace of mind, rarely brought his prey home – he saw no need to ingratiate himself with the provider of food and shelter. The way Jethro paced towards the basket reminded Tim of the way the cat stalked unwary birds. Tim felt he should warn Tony of his peril but, as so often with Jethro, he found himself fascinated to see what would happen.

Jethro hissed softly when he reached the basket. Tony raised his head and gazed into the blue eyes. Jethro hissed again but Tony seemed to have no sense of self-preservation – he scrambled to his feet – and why, wondered Tim, did it look as if he had seven legs – and nudged Jethro in a friendly way. One of Jethro's front paws snapped out and hit Tony between the ears. Tony blinked, sat back down on his haunches and looked around in a bewildered fashion. The paw shot out again and caught him on the nose. This time, Tony got the message and hopped out of the basket. Jethro stalked past him and settled down ostentatiously in the basket he usually despised.

Tim picked Tony up and inspected him for damage but decided that the way that Tony was licking his hand suggested that no lasting damage had been done. He remembered that Abby had bought Tony a basket of his own, so he unearthed it from the pile on the sofa and, strategically, placed it at a good distance from Jethro. He put Tony in the basket and he, obligingly, turned around three times and went straight to sleep. Until Jethro batted him around the head and evicted him.

Tim laughed and decided to leave them to it.

Later on, Tim decided it was time to feed his menagerie. He put Jethro's food down first and wasn't surprised that Tony had already decided that it was best to leave the cat's food alone. When Jethro had finished, Tim put Tony's food down but, before Tony could get to it, Jethro sat in front of the bowl and sniffed at the food. Tony sat down obediently at a distance and waited … and waited … and waited until finally Jethro, having established who was boss, stepped away and let Tony eat his dinner.

Tim laughed again.

Jethro took possession of Tony's basket that evening, leaving Tony to his own discarded bed. Tim decided that was fine for the moment as Tony wasn't much bigger than Jethro, but it might be a problem when he grew into his feet. Not that it mattered, Tim told himself sternly – Tony wouldn't be his problem by the time he had outgrown Jethro's bed.

Jethro was never a restless animal, preferring to sleep or stare fixedly at Tim. It turned out that Tony was also quiet – probably a result of living in a puppy farm where he had to stay where he was put. Tim went off to bed happily enough, thinking that Jethro and Tony would happily ignore each other all night.

While Tim settled down in bed and tried to think of a strategy to convince Abby to let him pass Tony on to someone else, the cat and the dog looked at one another. Tony hopped out of 'his' bed and ambled over to Jethro who stared back. Tony wagged his tail. Jethro stared back. Tony inched a little closer. Jethro continued to stare but didn't stop Tony from edging closer … and closer until he had climbed into the bed, turned around three times and then flopped down and went to sleep. Jethro delivered a gentle cuff around the ears before settling down to sleep as well.

The night passed. When Jethro heard Tim wake up and go to the bathroom, he nudged Tony awake. The puppy sighed but jumped out of the shared bed and wandered over to the smaller bed.

Tim looked through the door slightly warily, wondering what chaos might be revealed but was pleasantly surprised to see both animals quietly asleep. In fact, it was unusual for Jethro to be indoors as he often went out hunting or prowling overnight. Tim put Jethro's food down first and was amused to see that, when Tony's breakfast was put down, the cat did the same as he had the night before and made Tony wait.

Tony and Jethro, in Tim's presence, stayed aloof from one another although it was clear that Jethro had the upper hand. Tim got permission to work from home for a few days to allow him to test the extent of Tony's house training and to get his inoculations in place.

Tony turned out to be biddable and gentle although Tim suspected that he would also be stubborn. The puppy had decided that Jethro was leader of the McGee pack but, as Tim suspected he was right, he didn't try to usurp Jethro. Jethro largely ignored Tony although Tim noticed that he didn't go out on the prowl as much as before. Tim was not to know that Tony continued to snuggle up to Jethro at night or that, when Tim took Tony for a walk, Jethro sat in the window waiting for them to return.

Tim still didn't think that Tony was a good-looking dog but Abby, after some research, was delighted to tell Tim that she had discovered that he was a Spinone Italiano.

"A what-ee?" asked Tim.

Spinone Italiano – it's an Italian breed."

"Could've guessed that," muttered Tim.

Abby was in full flow and didn't even notice the interruption, "It's an Italian dog – and they sound lovely – you're so lucky …"

Tim tried to cut in to offer Abby the chance of having Tony for herself, but she swept on, "I think he's probably brown roan … I'll send all the information I've found. You can read up."

"Abby … I'm meant to be working … not reading up about …" but the line had gone dead and Tim realised that, yet again, he had been outmanoeuvred. He bent down to where Tony had come to sit at his feet, "Hmm, so you're Italian, are you. Guess that explains why you like that squeaky toy pizza!"

Tony obligingly chewed down on the pizza and Tim smiled at the noise. Jethro maintained his position on his new bed and didn't react to the noise of squeaky pizzas.

A week passed and Tim began to think less about letting either of his pets go: for this he was mostly grateful to Jethro who, he felt, kept Tony in line. Tony's puppiness, although fairly restrained, was enough to amuse Tim and somehow dilute the effect of Jethro's cool gaze. Tim began to pride himself on the smooth running of his enlarged household but resolved to keep his success quiet lest Abby find him yet another orphan to care for.

Ten days after Tony's arrival, there was a knock at Tim's door but, before he could answer it, Special Agents Jethro Gibbs and Anthony DiNozzo strode in.

"McDrDoolittle!" said DiNozzo cheerfully.

"McGee," said Gibbs more temperately.

"Boss! DiNozzo," replied Tim, "Back from that conference?"

"Sharp as ever, McPerspicacious," replied Tony before subsiding under Gibbs' stern eye, "Yes, got back yesterday. Abby told us about the new arrival."

DogTony was more confident now and came up to investigate the newcomers although he stayed a respectful distance from Gibbs while allowing humanTony to stroke him a little inexpertly – he didn't mind, it turned out that dogTony loved attention.

"How's Jethro taking to the new arrival?" asked DiNozzo.

"Fine. Tony knows who's in charge – Jethro made sure of that. They pretty much ignore each other," said Tim.

"Huh, is that so?" asked DiNozzo.

"Yep. Jethro turfed Tony out of the bed we got him and makes him wait for permission to eat."

"Huh," said DiNozzo.

"Yeah. Pretty much like it is at work, DiNozzo," said Tim, "Tony does what Jethro tells him."

"Is that so?" said DiNozzo.

"Sounds about right," said Gibbs with the suspicion of a twinkle in his eye, "Hey Tim, I need you to come back to the office."

"Boss?"

"Can't get my computer to work. IT guys are tied up."

"They're all too scared to come down," whispered DiNozzo, absentmindedly pulling Tony's ears through his fingers.

"OK, Boss … but I don't like to leave the puppy on his own. I've got a sitter coming from tomorrow to look in on him. Could it wait till tomorrow?"

"Nope. DiNozzo will dog sit for you."

"I will?" asked DiNozzo.

"Yep," Gibbs and Jethro turned twin cool gazes on DiNozzo.

"I will," affirmed DiNozzo, "Huh," he muttered when Tim and Gibbs had left, "Looks like history repeating itself. You and me - numero due …"

The puppy seemed to sense a little uncertainty and went to collect his squeaky pizza toy and laid it at DiNozzo's feet, obviously hoping for a game of tug. DiNozzo sighed and looked across to where Jethro sat, gazing at the two Tonys.

DiNozzo stared back. He looked at the toy, "Huh … don't think those are all your toothmarks, Tonio," he got up and looked at the bed. Jethro gazed back placidly. "And those brown hairs aren't yours, Boss – I mean, Jethro." He closed his eyes briefly and decided he could picture Jethro and Tony playing tug with the pizza and that he could see dog and cat snuggled up together at night. And was it wishful thinking, or could he discern benevolence in the way that the cat looked at the puppy?

DiNozzo grinned, "Don't think things are quite as you think, McDogowner!" Perhaps, mused DiNozzo, the cat/puppy dynamic in Tim's apartment was like that of Boss/Senior Field Agent. And perhaps, as a reminder of that, DiNozzo would pay the Boss a visit for cowboy steaks that night.

He threw the squeaky pizza for Tony to fetch … oops, he hoped the Star Wars figurine that fell to the floor as the puppy skidded into the bookshelves wasn't too valuable!