For those people whom do not believe that an animal is not intelligent enough to truly love.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, nor the Futurama Episode, Jurassic Bark

Also, in memory of those animals that spent the rest of their live, awaiting the masters that would never return.

Pikachu sat in disbelief, his ears and tail drooping in sorrow. His lifetime partner, buried six feet under in the soil beneath him. All because of Team Rocket. One of their machines had gone haywire during an attempt to steal Pikachu and it had resulted in Ash snapping his neck. The electric rodent quivered, scratching slightly at the dirt beneath him, sparkling tears running down his scarlet cheeks and landing in the fresh dirt before being absorbed and disappearing. The funeral had ended days ago, yet Pikachu had refused to move from the spot. Brock and Misty cam by often to feed and water him, but he would pay them no mind. He would give them a grateful squeak and eat and drink before returning to the headstone and curling up beside it, closing deep brown eyes and falling asleep.

Seasons began to change, summer became winter, and even through the harsh cold and snow, he stayed where he was, refusing to admit defeat. The other Pokemon had been deeply saddened, but the only one that had been nearly just as effected as he had been Bayleef, but after a few months even she had begun to move on, staying with Proffesor Oak. Not knowing what to do with Ash's Pokemon, they stayed with the Professor, whom had been unable to send them off to new trainers. Ash's water types were sent to live with Misty, and his ground and rock types were now with Brock in the gym. All the Pokemon had had somewhere to go. Pikachu had many homes offered to him from Misty, Brock, May, Max, Dawn and even Gary, who was completely sincere in his offer knowing how important he had been to Ash, but the rodent had turned them all away and stayed by his trainers side.

Pikachu had even stolen his poke ball from the Professors facility, and the red and white orb lay beside him. As long as it was intact, he would remain Ash's Pokemon, and no one else could capture him.

The snow drifted down on his yellow fur, melting so the moisture soaked his skin, forcing him to shiver violently but he refused to move, trying to bury his face into the ground, closer to where his partner lay. Tears trickled down his face as the memory of his death returned. Ash had been protecting him, and Meowth had been particularly impatient that day, causing the machines movements to become faster and more powerful, and when Ash dove to protect him, and had been tossed around like a rag doll, dead before he even hit the ground.

The Winter slowly passed and Spring came, and Pikachu was pleased as the warm weather returned. To his dismay, grass began to grown over the grave, covering the soil that marked where he lay. Brock and Misty still came by regularly, and the cemetery employee's also had taken to feeding the Pokemon, but despite this care, Pikachu was always in the same spot, growing thinner and weaker by the day.

Once summer came around, other Pokemon began to visit the Pikachu, most often Cubone. They would offer their comfort and try to convince Pikachu to move on, saddened by the state of the once great electric rodent, but they would all be chased away by the Pikachu, so that he could sit back down by the headstone.

Somewhere in the depths of his mind, Pikachu knew that Ash would not be returning, but he could not bring himself to abandon his beloved trainer. Ash had stuck with him through thick and thin, endangering his life, and not to mention losing it, to protect him, something that not even the bravest of trainers would do, and Pikachu could not betray that loyalty.

Soon, weeks changed into months and months transformed into years. Twelve years in fact. The Pikachu had grown famous, and people from all around the world would come to marvel the creature that waited so dutifully for his friends return, for the person that he would never be able to see again. Camera's flashed, hands stroked his filthy fur that he no longer bothered grooming and on occasion, people would pick him up to cuddle his weakened form. Some even had the bravery to try and carry him out of the cemetery only to get to the front gates and receive a rather intense Thundershock and a brief glimpse of a yellow mouse scurrying back to a headstone marked with Ash Ketchum's name, a constant reminder of his leaving the Earth.

Finally, on the thirteenth anniversary of Ash's death, the mouse knew his time had come. His once beautiful and sleek fur was now missing patches and had started greying long ago, so intensely that his muzzle was now almost completely white. His lightning bolt tail lay limply on the ground with no strength to hold it in the air any longer. Once lively and bright brown eyes, so full of curiosity, were now dulled with age, and more often then not closed in slumber, hiding the white cataracts that had developed there. His joints ached from the cold, making it difficult to move without pain, and his old heart beat painfully in his chest, his breath coming in irregular gasps.

Pikachu raised his head warily as he head a voice call his name, and he glanced around the empty cemetery, searching for the source of the noise but seeing no one. Laying his head back down on the frosted grass, his closed his eyes, only to hear the voice again.

Standing painfully, he winced and stood on his back feet, peering into the darkness with weakened eyes to find the noise. He saw a figure approaching him, and crouched to the ground warily, watching cautiously.

"Pikachu." It whispered, and his ears twitched. That voice was so familiar, yet it was a voice he had not heard in thirteen years.

"Pikachu." It repeated, and it seemed somewhat thicker, as if it was being chocked off by tears. Taking a careful step towards the figure as it leaned down towards him, he finally saw his face and the rodent gasped before leaping forward, and was surprised that he felt no pain in the gesture. He snuggled his nose into the base of Ash's neck, cooing happily as Ash cried, his arms wrapped around his tiny friend.

"Pikachu, I'm so sorry you waited for so long." He choked out, "So sorry little buddy. Can you forgive me?"

Pikachu merely continued making happy noises, refusing to be parted from his trainer again. And together, they turned and walked from the cemetery and into the yawning darkness that night provided.

Misty walked carefully through the cemetery, her red hair loose and her head bowed respectfully, her feet guiding her after being here so many times. Smiling gently at the sight of Pikachu asleep where he always was, she tip toed over and laid the food before the sparkle mouse and waited for the scent to awaken to poor creature, but she was surprised when it did not rouse him.

Reaching out tentatively, she stroked his head only to yank her hand back after touching the ice cold fur. No warmth radiated from the small Pokemon, and she had no doubt at what happened. Tears formed in her cerulean eyes and began to fall onto his bright yellow head. Carefully removing the blanket that she had given him so long ago from beside the tombstone emblazoned with the name Ash Ketchum, and placed over his lifeless form, and made her way back to the entrance of the cemetery to deliver the news, trying hard not to trip as tears for both her friends blurred her way.

Here Lies Pikachu

Fierce Battler

Devoted Friend

And The Bravest Of Us All

May He Rest In Peace

1996-2013

Pikachu looked at his own tombstone for one last time before returning to his trainers shoulder, who was examining his own rock that sat right beside Pikachu's. Pikachu's had been made with breathtaking detail, after being funded by millions of people who was inspired by his story. Embedded in the stone sat a red and white poke ball with a lightning bolt stamp, an item that despite his protectiveness of it over the thirteen years he waited, he still despised. Turning his smiling russet brown eyes to his companion, he breathed deeply before turning away.

"Well Pikachu." He said softly, "Here comes the greatest adventure of them all."

Hachikō the Akita, whom waited ten years for his deceased master to return to him, before dieing of a heartworm.

And to Greyfriars Bobby, who waited fourteen years on his masters grave, ever waiting for his return.

My main inspiration - www(dot)youtube(dot)com(slash)watch?v=EnpU6PqKA5A