It's sad to see my companion this way. He lies on the couch, beside me, breathing deep, big brown eyes looking up at me. His cold, wet nose glistening as the flickers from the fire light up the room. He's fought with me all over the Wasteland but now we spend our time in Megaton, he has become comfortable with the casual days.

Getting old now, you see. Gone the sprightly beast of youth, the non-stop energy, the gay abandon with which he took to life and took life off others. Those powerful hind-quarters are not what they once were. He sighs. The top of his enormous head is coated with matted hair. He sighs again, scratches vigorously, grumbles.

"You wanna go for a walk, old fella?", I ask.

He looks at me. I know he understands but what normally has him up and circling like a lunatic, excited to be going outside like it's his first ever, leaves him stretched out on the floor. He turns on his side. Once lithe, now the belly is pronounced. He stretches.

"Walk?", I said, grabbing my 101 jump-suit and weapons.

Nothing. He grumbles again from that deep, barrelly chest, deep, resonating. He wheezes. I can't help but think of all the good times. Out exploring the Capital Wasteland. 'Get 'em!', I'd say and he'd leap forward ready to chase and maul and possibly hump whatever it was I was pointing at. Time waits for no man, nor beast. It catches up with us all. The cat strolls in, sniffs him, recoils as is the cats wont, but they are old friends and the feline sits next to him for a while, as if to say 'It'll be ok, I understand'.

I put down my book, blow out the candles and put on my jump-suit. I'm going out and he's coming with me. His life might be passing from autumn to winter but dammit I'm not going to let him fade away like this. The twilight of his existence will be something special, he's too much a part of me for anything else.

"Get up. Come on. Get up", I say. He groans again. Lies panting on the floor. "Come on. We're going out. You have no choice. Get up". This time he turns away from me. 'Leave me be', he's saying. 'I just want to lie here to wither in peace'. It's heartbreaking. A once proud beast reduced to this.

I won't let him wither though. I will make sure of it. I walk slowly over to him and look down. It's pitiful. He won't make eye contact. I'm not sure I could cope if he did. I pretend to walk away, I can sense him relax as he thinks I'm going without him, but quickly I turn and kick him as hard as I can in the balls.

"Come the fuck on, Jericho", I say. "We're going to Moriarty's for a pint and that's the end of it".

He gets up. Eventually.