Chapter 2

***Usual disclaimers. Don't own TWD or any of its stuff and thangs.***

Me: Short chapter, longer ones on the way.

Rick eyed Shane warily. The brown tomcat returned his stare. Slowly, Shane approached the food bowl Rick had set down. It was filled with his favorite wet food. He regarded the bowl briefly and looked up at Rick, expression almost mistrustful. He sniffed the bowl, then stuck his nose in. He commenced to eating, purring loudly as he enjoyed his morning meal.

True to her word, Michonne had researched training techniques for cats after the Thanksgiving fiasco. While there were no kitty obedience schools, (at least, not locally) there were plenty of websites that contained various experiences and valuable information.

"We need to make him like you," Michonne told her husband after a few days of compiling data. "There are some techniques for helping with that. As far as I can tell, it's the most effective solution. There are a few things we need to do immediately."

She had taken one of Rick's old t-shirts and placed it in Shane's kitty bed. Then, she insisted that Rick needed to be the one to start feeding Shane. "Also, and I know this is gonna sound crazy...you need to start talking to him."

He'd laughed in disbelief. "What? 'Chonne, you can't be serious."

"I am dead serious. Talk to him. Use a friendly tone of voice. He needs to adapt to you as a non-threatening entity. According to what I've found...it sounds like Shane views you as intruding on his territory."

"I'm intruding on his territory? What a bunch of bull-"

She cut him off. "Yes, I know...Shane's the thorn in your side, not the other way around. But I'm telling you what I've read. This is how his feline brain processes it...which means you have to make nice. No yelling. No threats of drowning. No kicking."

"I don't kick him!" Rick protested. Michonne fixed him with a look. "Well...maybe just the one time," Rick amended guiltily, cutting his gaze away from her. "Okay, okay. What else?"

"We're going to get a laser pointer and you're going to use it to help Shane get some exercise," Michonne explained. "You two are going to be best friends."

"You sure drownin' isn't an option?" Rick muttered.

Rick wasn't overjoyed at this, but was willing to give it a try for peace within the household. Two weeks later things were moving along according to plan, much to his surprise. The hissing and spitting had greatly reduced, and Shane was able to be in the same room with Rick for extended periods of time without going berserk. The pointer game was actually kind of fun. Rick had no idea Shane could jump so high...and liked testing the cat's limits.

The talking part was kind of strange. What, exactly, were you supposed to say to a cat? At first, Rick found himself stumbling over what to talk about. He'd describe the weather, or describe what he'd eaten that day, feeling like the world's biggest idiot.

But as the days went by...Rick found himself, oddly enough, actually talking to the cat about what was on his mind. He'd complain about how green his partner Leo was, or relate his plans to remodel the front yard.

Today, however, there was a very specific worry invading his thoughts.

"Shane, ole' buddy, I have got myself a problem," Rick began. Shane's ears twitched at Rick's words but he continued to eat, intent on his meal. "I don't know what to get Michonne for Christmas.

"Last year it wasn't tough. She wanted those boots and books...but this year...I don't have a clue. I don't want to ask her, because then she'd have an idea of what she was gettin'. And sure, there's small stuff she could use or that she'd like...but we're married now."

Rick sighed deeply. "It has to be somethin' big. All this stuff recently with Lori...she's been so good about everything. I want to give her somethin' really, really special. But I don't know what that is."

Shane, who'd finished his meal, raised his whiskered face and meowed.

"I could ask around. Maybe Andrea or Simeon would have some ideas...though I guess that depends on how much I trust them to keep their mouths shut. When you look at it that way...Simeon would be the better bet. What do you think, Shane?"

Shane's expression, if one could call it that, was disdainful.

"Yeah? What would you know about it? You're just a cat," Rick scoffed. "Although," he sighed heavily, scratching the back of his neck, "that makes me the crazy person talkin' to a cat."

Shane purred his agreement and strutted out of the kitchen, tail jauntily upright.

He'd have to talk to Simeon soon, very soon. There wasn't much time left before Christmas and Michonne was who he had left to worry about. Well, Michonne...and who he'd drawn for Secret Santa. Just his luck that he'd drawn Ezekiel.

Maybe I can find something for him at the Dollar Tree.

To Be Continued