The Growlithe looked nervously around at the unfamiliar surroundings.
"It's OK, Cinder," I reassured him. "We're going to see a very clever guy who'll tell me what's wrong with you."
I hoped I was telling the truth. Cinder had been off-colour for weeks. I'd given him potions, groomed his fur, made sure he got lots of exercise and fresh air, but he was losing ground fast. He couldn't do his Ember attack any more; a puff of grey smoke was all he could manage. His once- mighty Roar was gone too. It broke my heart to see my favourite Pokémon like this. I must be a really bad trainer. Cinder had even stopped sleeping on my bed, preferring to stay in the yard howling at the moon. Alone at night, I would cry and smack my forehead, muttering "STUpid, USEless, LOUsy, NO- good trainer!" with every blow. The Nurse Joy in my hometown, Cerulean City, had checked Cinder over and over and assured me there was nothing physically wrong with him; in fact he should be in peak condition. As a last resort I had brought him to Professor Oak's laboratory in Pallet Town, knowing the Pokémon Master to be wise and kindhearted.
"I remember you - you're from Cerulean! I gave you your Rattata!" The professor appeared and led me to his laboratory.
"Now, you're Samantha, but you won't answer unless I call you Skip, correct?"
"That was six months ago, Professor. I've grown up a bit since then," I said grandly.
"But it's still Skip?"
"Yup."
"And this must be Cinder. Hello, Cinder!" The Growlithe recognised someone who loved Pokémon and was used to handling them, and wagged his tail. The magnificent plume was draggled and droopy.
Professor Oak flashed a penlight into his eyes and looked into his mouth. He prodded and palpated the little Pokémon and said "Hmm," and "Aaah," until I was frantic with worry. At last he straightened up.
"Well, there's nothing physically wrong," he said. I groaned. Was he going to be no more help than Nurse Joy?
"No, I'd say the problem was up here," said the professor, tapping his head.
"What, you mean Cinder's mentally ill?"
"No, no. But he is unhappy."
I almost cried. I tried so hard with my Pokémon. What could Cinder possibly have to be sad about?
"You do battle him, don't you? Some Pokémon get bored and frustrated if they don't fight occasionally."
"Oh yes, he was a great fighter until this started. He was learning Flamethrower," I boasted.
"Maybe you've been training him too hard, hmm?"
"I don't think so. He always seemed keen."
"Hmm." It seemed to be the prof's favourite word. "What other Pokémon do you have?"
"Raichu and Raticate."
"Ah. And what is a Raichu?"
I was puzzled. "A Pokémon?" I suggested.
"What kind of Pokémon?"
"Electric." I said promptly.
"No, no." Oak shook his head. "Raichu is the evolved form of..."
"Pikachu." My Ratatta had trounced a wild Pikachu in Viridian Forest and she had become mine.
"And Raticate..."
"Is the evolved form of Ratatta." I was getting annoyed. My Pokémon knowledge was spot on, thank you very much.
"So both your other Pokémon have evolved..."
"And you think Cinder wants to evolve too?" I asked, amazed. I'd never heard anything like it.
"He's around Level 50, I believe? Yes, I think this cute little fellow wants to be a big fierce Arcanine!"
At that, Cinder pricked up his ears. "Grrowl!" A small flame flickered from his mouth, the first I'd seen for days.
"But you need a Fire Stone to evolve a Growlithe!"
"Then I suggest you obtain one. And fast. Cinder is very depressed and he may run away if you don't help him out."