It's terrifyingly worrying, how quickly Riley, the quick, obedient, fierce K-9 that Simon adopted, so quickly became.. this. A whining puppy with teary eyes, that had no appetite and whose ribs were starting to show. His energy was sapped, and the cause was probably food poisoning.

Simon was overwhelmed. Took Riley to every vet in London, and even in a week, the poor thing could not feel much better. Simon's worried sick; he doesn't even want to think about the possibility of losing his best pal. The furry little German Shepherd who has stuck by his side even in the most dire battlefield.

You come home from work one late evening, and find the house a mess. There's random tufts of fur, and disposable dog syringes, and the vet's prescribed meds everywhere. Riley was moved inside the house to stay warm, so you rush upstairs to the bedroom where you and Si kept him, finding him knelt over the shivering canine, gently stroking his head. Simon turned to you, worry etched all over his face.

".. sorry. Didn't get a chance to clean up. Uhm.. the ol' boy's got a temperature, and he ain't eating again, I've tried everything.."