The Mysterious Human
You know I have to wonder sometimes just what makes up the human known as Timothy McGee. You hear stories about humans who have so much compassion and understanding in them that it makes you wonder what kind of drugs these people are on. And yet, he demonstrated that to me, so many years ago.
We met under extremely difficult circumstances. I had been doped up and without meaning to, I attacked him… without any provocation, I attacked Timothy McGee. He shot me in self defense, temporarily wounding me and yet…why didn't he kill me?
I know without a shadow of a doubt the others would have. My namesake, Jethro Gibbs is a deadly shot, or so everyone says. He was in the Marines, like me, and had been a sniper. If he'd been the one I attacked, I'd have been dead after the first growl.
Then there's Ziva David; the former Mossad agent, now NCIS agent. She's known for her skills with many weapons including knives. Attacking her would have ended up badly for both of us. I may only weigh 70 pounds but drug crazed and charging would have wounded her, while she'd have stabbed me to death.
The one I'm not so sure about is Tony DiNozzo. He's a former cop, I can smell cops a mile away and he was one that's for doggone sure. He's a smart ass too. He'd have shot to kill and that would have meant more than just one bullet hole in my hide.
Abby Sciuto may know how to kill and get rid of the forensic evidence but she loves me…silly woman. I could have taken her down but for some odd reason it never occurred to me to attack her. What shocked me was the way she addressed Timothy. She called him bad McGee, like he was the dog and not me. What kind of human says that to another?
Then while he's still getting over the fact that I attacked him she tells him a sob story about why he needed to adopt me. Her landlord would have let me stay; she just wanted to see if I'd do anything to Timothy or rather if he'd dare do anything to me with her calling him every ten minutes that first day to make sure I was all right.
That first night when he brought me home, he made sure I had comfortable blankets for a bed, fresh water and kibble. The next day on his way home he stopped to buy a new collar and leash. Over the next few days, he was bringing home something new every day; a squeaky toy on Monday, or new treats on Wednesday. This from a man that I'd nearly savaged.
Here he comes now, whistling some obscure human tune. It's catchy I'll give it that much. He gives me a jovial greeting as he reaches down and scratches that one spot behind my ears that only he knows how to scratch. He fills my bowl full of kibble and washes out my water bowl before filling it with fresh water.
He puts on his tennis shoes and I'm heading for the door with my leash, knowing that he'll be there waiting to take me to the park. When we get back, I head to my bowl of water and quench my thirst while he takes off his shoes and pads over to his typewriter. I never knew what a typewriter was until I met McGee. Who knew the sound of a typewriter could be comforting enough to put one to sleep?
I curl up beside him and as I drift off into my doggie daydream, I thank Sirius the dog-god that he brought Timothy McGee into my life. I may never know why he didn't kill me, but I'm grateful that he didn't, as I would have never gotten to know the mystery of the human known as Timothy McGee.
A/N: Yeah I don't know just where this one came from…it just did…maybe the plot bunnies are trying to indicate something?