text: We walk together at sunrise regardless of the weather, the day's schedule, or mood. If it rains we get wet. If it snows we face the chill. If the humid August heat thickens the air we breathe it in, and push it out. The sparse weeks of gentle weather are noted as fleeting things not to be normalized. He chews the packed snow out of his paws or rests in the cool creekbed. I chain smoke and drink lukewarm black coffee regardless of the weather. It is a steady routine that I do not wish to alter. Yet the constant of change pulls this comforting security apart. He grows less playful. I notice this long after the change began. He rests more often, a rest welcomed by the dull ache in my knees. I searched for my first dog during the collapse of a long-term relationship. Grasping at straws, I wanted to seize any chance to slow the panicked fall. I imagine some couples do this with pregnancy. Anything to pump the breaks. To restore what once was. In our case, the puppy did not work as intended. This small dog is the last remaining link to a past life. A version of myself that lived more passionately. I miss aspects of that stranger. The bursts of creative action that led to success beyond my years. A doomed success that could not withstand an unhealthy relationship, mind, or routine. Years beyond that we walk together. His graying muzzle at odds with how close in my heart those days stand. I do not belong in this world anymore. The quiet streets, the quaint cabins, the peace of the ivy-coated wood all replaced. All replaced by unsustainable comforts. Comforts that strip a diverse forest into a complex of identical culdesac homes. Areas that he once ran off-leash are now strip malls with scam artist chiropractors or payday loan operations. Areas that once wafted honeysuckle, now reek of modernization. Oil, rotting garbage, freshly poured heated blacktop. It aches to have a love of the world that lives only in memory. I fear that he will pass soon. That my last connection will be severed. He has begun to limp. It is only a matter of time. I know my sole companion well enough to see how tired he has become. I hope that the memories of a kinder environment have faded from his mind. It seems unbearably cruel for such an innocent creature to long, as I do, for a more natural world that will not return. After the military scientists created artificially intelligent defense systems nuclear deterrence became obsolete. War between the major nations of the world could be fought as it had been. The major countries of the world placing boots on the ground. Scores of adolescents in mech suits dying, and killing as no other combatants had in the history of warfare. China invaded Africa, The United States invaded Africa. Millions are dead. We live on rations now. 1800 calories a day, 1500 calories a day, 1200 calories a day. My companion is hungry. I wonder if he understands that I struggle to provide, or if he believes that I choose not to. His fur is coarse and patchy. He licks bits of infected dark skin obsessively. The day will soon come when the suffering of his age, and starvation will outweigh my revulsion. My revulsion to do what must inevitably be done. The Chinese have landed troops in Florida. We are no longer fighting a war that can be won. We are drawing out our demise. Those captured are enslaved or killed. The outline of my pelvis pulls taught skin, and I fear that the 22nd century will be a world without the English language. The few people that I see on my walks, which have become much briefer, are gaunt figurines. I have no room for pity. Three weeks without electricity, or news of the invasion. I found an enemy pilot hanging by his parachute from a weeping willow. Cut him down. Walked him to my home. He died from an abdominal wound. This took a few days. I marked his grave with the star pattern on his nations flag. My lungs rattle. I must have caught an illness from the pilot. Starvation has comprised my immune system. Fever skin cracks at the joints. Infected armpits ooze yellow pus mixed with trickles of blood. Today is the day my companion leaves the Earth. He is ready, and I have grown so weak that I fear I will not be able to drown him tomorrow. I place him in a wagon and wheel him to the lake. His cataract blinded eyes lack comprehension. I wade out with him in my arms and do not return.