Hey Bill, sorry about the length, but I’m hoping perhaps you could help me figure out what’s happening to my Alakazam. I’ve had him since I was a little girl and he’s always been my best friend, but lately he’s been distancing himself. He no longer wants to join me on trips to the lake or walks in the park when I’m off on my work rotation. He’s been sleeping much more than usual and has been much slower in reacting or answering me when I address him. He’s never been a big eater but now he hardly eats a complete meal once a day, no matter why I try to give him. His fur has also thinning in patchy areas despite how well it’s kept. Is there anything I can do for him, to keep things from getting worse?
Bill: Well, if your partner had been an alakazam since you were young, there’s a good likelihood that he’s … well, getting old. For one, if he evolved naturally, then by default, he’s likely pretty advanced in age. For another, if he hadn’t, alakazam don’t live that much longer after evolution. I don’t mean to say that they live short lives afterwards, of course; I mean to say that they don’t often live as long as their human partners. Sometimes, they don’t quite make it to twenty years after their final evolution. The stress of containing their incredible psychic abilities can take a physical toll on them, you see.
I know that sounds quite depressing, but alakazam frequently deal with the subject with grace, as yours seems to be. Many of the signals you’re describing match up with classic behavior for when an alakazam is, well, making its final preparations. Of course, I could be wrong, and it’s important to communicate with your local pokémon center to be absolutely certain, but if I’m right, then what you’re seeing are signs that your alakazam is slowing down, breaking himself away from your life in order to get you acclimated to life without him, and, put simply, getting ready to pass on.
As I’ve said, communicate with your local Nurse Joy to be absolutely certain, but if she agrees, the best you can do is make your alakazam feel comfortable. He already knows that you will always be by his side, even until the end, but it wouldn’t hurt to physically be there for him as well.
When it comes to gym leaders, the process usually begins with a recommendation from either a current gym leader/Elite Four member or a high-ranking member of the Pokémon Association (the international governing body that oversees the leagues—and yes, the champion is typically one of these members by default). Why a candidate might receive a recommendation tends to vary pretty wildly. Some gym leaders elect their own kin (such as in the cases of Lavaridge, Violet, and Fuchsia), while others choose trainers who impress them (as in the case of Petalburg or Lumiose). In rare cases, the Association recommends winners of local tournaments (Viridian, Veilstone) or unofficial gym leaders who defeat local gym leaders (Saffron).
Regardless of the reason, once elected, the candidate is then subjected to a test administrated by Association officials in the form of a battle. Should the candidate pass (i.e., win), they’re given official gym status and placement in their regional league. (Side note: There are many, many unofficial gyms out there. Anyone can open a place, call it a gym, and make a badge to go with it, but non-sanctioned gyms don’t count towards league requirements and often don’t follow league rules. It’s therefore not a good idea to challenge these gyms.)
Once sanctioned, a gym leader may serve a number of functions in their community, depending on that community’s needs and the gym leader’s abilities. Many gym leaders serve as teachers and offer classes on pokémon care, battling, or related local customs to local trainers and trainers-to-be. Others support their town or city’s law enforcement and/or public safety offices, and most gym leaders serve key roles in their area’s tournaments and festivals. Ultimately, all gym leaders are public figures and role models, and as such, they are, in general, expected to act on their best behaviors to serve as examples to their communities.
Of course, this is in addition to other, personal duties. Many gym leaders hold second jobs, not so much because the Association doesn’t pay them enough—believe me, the majority of them get paid more than I do as an Association member—but more because it’s something to do when they’re not maintaining a gym. The Unovan gym leaders, for example, consist of a fine artist, a museum curator, three restaurateurs, a teacher, a pilot, a model, and the owner of Unova’s largest construction company. For another example, one Kantonian gym leader runs a perfume company, two others are researchers, one is in medical school, one is still technically active in the American military, and the Cerulean Sisters apparently fancy themselves as “water ballet performers” … not that I have anything to say about that last one. The point here is that although a gym leader’s primary duties consist of maintaining a gym, battling, and serving in their community, this isn’t as hefty a list of tasks as one would think, and gym leaders are free to do whatever they wish in their spare time (within reason, given the aforementioned note about being a public figure).
The Elite Four is very similar to the above, but the requirements, both in becoming one and in performing as one, are more. For starters, it’s not possible to be recommended by a gym leader for a position in the Elite Four; candidates can only be chosen and recommended by high-ranking members of the Pokémon Association or Symposium. (To give you an idea of how high we’re talking about, I can’t recommend someone for membership into the Elite Four, but Steven Stone or Professor Kukui can.) The exam that follows is often harder than the one administered to gym leaders, and it often consists of battling four of the region’s topmost trainers (that is, the current Elite Four in most cases). And finally, while gym leaders are expected to serve their specific communities, the Elite Four is expected to serve their entire region. This means that if, for example, a threat to the entire region surfaces (to the scale of the Hoenn Incident a few years back), usually, the Elite Four is called into action to help the regional government with defense. Usually, anyway. As in, we don’t normally send single preteens out to battle the forces of nature, but for whatever reason, that’s been a trend as of late, which means the Elite Four has been called upon fewer and fewer times.
Besides that, Elite Four members are often asked to engage in regional events (such as the exhibition matches that typically take place before championship tournaments such as the Silver or Lumiose Conferences), teach new trainers whenever possible, and generally maintain their reputations as upstanding members of society. It’s just that as highly public figures, maintaining a certain public image is even more important to the Elite Four than it is to gym leaders, and oftentimes, it’s actually easier to be kicked out of the Elite Four due to violating the Association’s standards of conduct than it is to be kicked off the badge circuit. (I realize that sounds rather ghastly, but it’s important to keep in mind that the Elite Four are also the faces of their respective league. Any misconduct from them is a direct reflection on their region as a whole. It’s politics, in other words, only the leagues tend to take things a bit more seriously than actual politicians.)
Of course, as with gym leaders, the Elite Four (and champion, for that matter) can also opt to take second jobs, especially since they’re often called into action fewer times than gym leaders are. For example, it’s completely possible for Siebold of Kalos to run more than one high-ranked restaurant in Lumiose or Diantha to star in at least one feature film a year because, well, aside from the occasional challenger to the Elite Four gauntlet, the Kalos League rarely requires the services of its Elite Four.
In short, if you’re considering joining either group, anonymous, best of luck, but consider beginning with the gym circuit first. Impressing a gym leader enough to get a recommendation is far easier than impressing an Association member.
Well, I would be happy to give advice for both pokémon (especially given that minior’s requirements are few, even though its maintenance isn’t easy), but that would likely create a response so lengthy I doubt anyone would care to read it. (That is to say, once the askbox is open, please feel free to ask about minior care!)
So comfey it is!
Now, keep in mind that as a service pokémon, it’s likely that your comfey will be easier to take care of than you may think. For starters, it will likely be an indoor pokémon, as it will need to be with you as often as possible (depending on how it’s meant to help you), and for another, service pokémon are often already housebroken and well-trained, with minimal requirements because, well, they’re working pokémon.
That having been said, the following is for all comfey, not simply service ones.
The main thing to remember is that comfey’s flowers are not actually part of its body. That is to say, in order to maintain a comfey’s psychological (and, by extent, physical) health, you need to maintain a source of fresh flowers all year round—emphasis on fresh. Unfortunately, silk flowers are no substitute, and of course, as a fairy-type, no comfey will want to touch wilted or rotten flowers. This may make comfey rather expensive to care for, but so long as you maintain a garden during the growing seasons and potted flowers during the colder ones, you should be fine. Alternatively, as edible flowers are typically as fresh as one can get, you might be able to give your comfey a new package of flowers from the supermarket every week.
Either way, luckily, comfey don’t always need bushels of flowers, so when I say “all you will need is a packet of flowers every week,” I do actually mean that will likely be sufficient unless your comfey is ill. (If your comfey is ill, then it can’t maintain its sticky tail, and the flowers that adorn it will wilt faster. This is usually your first indicator that your comfey is under the weather.)
On that note, be careful when bathing your comfey. You will need to wash around the flowers and avoid damaging the blossoms at all costs. Otherwise, comfey should be given a small bath regularly, to remove excess pollen, dirt, and wilted petals. How often depends on how dirty your comfey can get or how particular they are. Some can go for a week between baths; others will insist on daily bathing. Be aware of your comfey’s body language at first to figure out how often it will be comfortable with.
In terms of housing, comfey are most comfortable resting in either a garden or inside the home. They don’t need any special bedding either way (as they simply hang themselves on the nearest available light fixture, if not suspend themselves in mid-air at all times), and if kept outside, you don’t need a litter box. Indoor comfey should be given a small pot lined with soil (preferably with a plant, such as wheat- or lemongrass) to relieve themselves. Additionally, all comfey are diurnal and thus sleep at night, typically suspended on light fixtures or in the air, as previously noted. Yours, as a service pokémon, will follow your sleep schedule, so this may be less of a concern for you.
Comfey are also omnivorous, but they’re largely self-sufficient. Their primary diets consist of plants and the insects that eat them, so if kept in a garden, your comfey will be able to feed itself. Indoor comfey can be fed fresh fruits and vegetables, although live or frozen crickets are recommended for protein. They can, as with all other pokémon, also be fed kibble specific to fairy-types. And of course, always offer water, preferably in a clean water bottle (as comfey struggle with water dishes).
Now, here’s where the main divergence between your comfey and other comfey will be. Distractions. While it’s okay to give your comfey toys (preferably lightweight ones that make pleasant noises, but pay attention to your comfey’s preferences) and treats, as even service pokémon need a break once in a while, you won’t be battling with your service pokémon due to the whole fact that trainers are prohibited from battling a service pokémon in the first place. As such, you likely don’t need to know the following:
If you’re training a comfey, as with all pokémon, train for a minimum of one hour. Increase that time as needed to include special training if you’re attempting to teach it new moves. Comfey’s main strengths lie in its defensive capabilities and support techniques (which is why it’s often used as a nursing pokémon in Alola), so design your training around developing this. Meditation, endurance training, and first aid practice might be excellent options. Comfey, due to their unique body structure, need very little exercise beyond that, although taking walks with it will help it develop its speed (and perhaps its endurance, if you do it on a windy day).
In short, most of what you’ll need to know about comfey involves basic care involving feeding and grooming, but other than that, comfey are some of the lowest maintenance fairy-types one can raise.
Well, first and foremost, you’ll want to train your espurr to be a bit gentler on your cinccino. First off, determine the specific acts that bother cinccino the most. (Jumping, of course, but perhaps there are others in addition to this, I mean.) Once you figure this part out, train your espurr to, well, not do those specific things anymore. This can be as simple as following the steps outlined here: http://bills-pokedex.tumblr.com/post/163998759883/help-my-cubchoo-has-an-insatiable-appetite-for
If you can’t quite determine which specific acts are bothering your cinccino (or if it really is simply jumping, but the above methods don’t work), consider also giving your espurr more outlets to release its pent-up energy. Add an extra hour of battling practice to help wear it down, or an hour of meditation to teach it how to control its natural energy. Perhaps give it more toys to pounce on or more creative outlets to express itself. The more you can cure your espurr’s boredom, the less likely it will relieve that boredom by pouncing on your cinccino.
If none of the above solutions work, consider teaching your cinccino Substitute and perhaps Rest, just to give it the ability to create a distraction for your espurr.
To clarify, anonymous, are you a temporary ranch or a storage ranch? If you’re a temporary ranch (that is, a facility designed to care for pokémon on a short-term basis), it’s unfortunate that this is a thing that could happen, but it’s best to keep in mind that you’re only meant to be a temporary care facility. That having been said, it may be a good idea to create and enforce a time limit—say, thirty days maximum stay, for example. Gently notify or remind clients of this time period when they drop off pokémon, and include it in any paperwork they may sign. This may push them to come back for their pokémon in a timely manner, but for those who don’t, consider partnering with a shelter in order to rehome pokémon with foster trainers.
Additionally, it may be a good idea to remind clients approaching that time limit that a pokémon receives no better care from anyone but their trainer. That is, while you can provide care and shelter for them, only their trainers have bonded with them enough to know their specific long-term needs. Hence, it’s better and more humane for the pokémon to be back with their trainers, rather than permanently in your care.
If, however, you’re meant to be a storage ranch—that is, a facility designed to be the designated “home base” for trainers—as unfortunate as this may be, pokémon may be better off in your care, as part of a trainer’s job is to travel the world and bond with pokémon in regions that may not have access to the Bank yet. Be patient, though, anonymous, and consider taking fewer clients. It may be heartbreaking to see a pokémon spend time with you for months or years at a time, but what you’re really doing is giving a trainer’s team a home until the trainer returns from their journey, in much the same way that the storage system gives pokémon a home when a trainer reaches their six-pokémon limit.
If it’s not a physical issue (not even a nutritional one), it’s possible that it’s a psychological one, anonymous. If that’s the case, then it could be any number of things. Has she experienced trauma recently? Does she have a partner? Is this bout of lethargy a one-off happening, or has your banette experienced anything similar in the past?
Either way, I would highly suggest beginning with communication. Banette, like many ghost-types, are actually highly intelligent and in possession of a level of sentience that nears human thought. In other words, make it abundantly clear that you will always be there to give her whatever she needs to feel safe and happy, whether it’s affection, someone to listen to her ghostly moans, or some sort of distraction or extra outlets for venting.
Moreover, be sure she gets plenty of rest, hydration, and food, and be sure the food she gets meets her nutritional needs. Even basic care can improve a pokémon’s mood considerably, and you’d be surprised how much a lack of water or food can damage one’s spirits.
In all, while I unfortunately can’t guarantee that this will do the trick, it sounds like you may need to assist your banette in administering self-care. Treat her gently and with patience and teach her to do the same, and you may see a bit of her old self growing back.
Simple, anonymous. As his trainer, it’s up to you to teach him not only techniques but also discipline. Teach him that there are times and places to use his attacks and that, outside of a battle under your command, his attacks are only to be used against another pokémon only as a last resort. Provide him with other outlets to relieve stress and anger, and be sure that you’ve trained the rest of your team to treat him like, well, a teammate (that is, someone to help when they ask for it).
Frillish are fairly adaptable, being partly ghost-types. (Ghost-types tend to be more resilient to environmental changes than most pokémon, except in the case of light.) So yes, absolutely, they will do just fine in lakes.
That having been said, frillish are also fairly easy to care for. To start, yes, they must have a body of water to rest in at all times. Although the salinity of this body of water doesn’t entirely matter, the temperature does; be sure that the temperature of the lake doesn’t drop below freezing … or, in other words, don’t let your frillish be in the part that freezes over. Otherwise, the fluids in her body will also freeze, which won’t necessarily kill her but will be massively unpleasant. Conversely, allowing her to dry out (by neglecting to give her water) results in a deflated frillish. This also won’t necessarily kill her unless she’s dried out for a long time and then salted. (Some parts of Asia consider frillish treated in this manner to be a delicacy, just as a fun side note.) It’s also possible to keep a frillish in a tank during the colder months, although this is only advisable if you have enough space and time to maintain one. Be sure to equip the tank with the usual tools a pokémon fish tank would use, including a filter/aeration system, plants, and a gravel bottom.
In terms of food, frillish are carnivorous (and do not consume the souls of the living, as is commonly thought). They often eat brine shrimp or plankton, both of which are available at most pokémarts, either dried and canned or shaped into a cake. (Simply break off pieces of the cake form as per instructions on the package.) Luckily, a number of fish-like pokémon share this same diet, so it’s not that difficult to find this sort of food for your frillish, but if push comes to shove, a generic water-type poké kibble will do just as well. Cleanup is not necessary unless you keep your frillish in a tank, at which point, clean her tank once a week at the minimum. (Remove all food debris and feces, cycle the water, add water treatments, and clean off any grime or algae buildup. The whole process may only take an hour.)
The hardest part of frillish care lies in keeping her enriched and entertained. Frillish are ultimately social creatures, and many females will want one or more male partners. As such, try to raise yours alongside your other pokémon. If you have a water-type, this will be even better. If you have no other pokémon, consider adding a male frillish to your home to help maintain your frillish’s mental health. Otherwise, provide your frillish with toys (anything light that she can carry or float—particularly waterproof balls or other waterproof toys), and be sure to train her for at least an hour a day, as per usual with most pokémon. Luckily, most frillish aren’t particularly aggressive or mischievous in low numbers, but nonetheless, always be on high alert for any poltergeist activity out of your frillish.
That may be all you need to do, anonymous. Give it a pool and let it do the rest, that is. A squirtle will know by instinct how to swim, as well as how to use its basic water-type moves, so you won’t need to teach it yourself. You can simply place it in the same vicinity as the pool, and it will know what to do.
What’s more important, though, is your fear of water-types. Your fear of water may resolve itself over time through exposure therapy (that is, the longer you care for your squirtle, the more you’ll be able to tolerate water), but the problem is that you won’t be able to receive that exposure therapy unless you’re certain you can handle your squirtle. It sounds like this squirtle is among the water-types you can handle, certainly, but nonetheless, think hard about whether or not this is something you can do. If the answer is no, then it’s far better for the both of you psychologically if you rehome it.
Rehoming may be a tricky process for a pokémon so young (one that’s imprinted on you, no less), so it must be done carefully. First, find a reputable foster pokémon organization that will help you find a foster trainer. The caretakers in this shelter must be as caring and attentive as possible, as surrounding your squirtle with caring people will make the transition easier. Next, once a foster trainer is found, work with them for the first week in order to establish a relationship between your squirtle and its new (temporary) trainer. (If one isn’t found and you must rehome your squirtle immediately, simply work with the staff of the shelter instead.) Lessen your presence little by little over time until the squirtle is comfortable without you in sight.
Alternatively, if you don’t want to place your squirtle in a shelter or a new home, train yourself to tolerate your squirtle’s presence, perhaps through exposure therapy as well. If you have a partner or someone who shares your home with you, ask them to help you care for your squirtle, but make it a point to spend a period of time each day with it. If you live alone, simply have it play in the pool or a bathtub as much as possible, then interact with it when you need to care for it. (As a note, yes, it’s young, so you will have to spend time with it. Furthermore, you need to remain calm during these moments, as any indication that you’re afraid of your squirtle will have adverse psychological effects on it. I highly recommend meditating before attempting to interact with your squirtle in order to calm yourself.) During these time periods, do something fun to engage with your squirtle: a game, a bit of (non-water-based) training, exercise, and so forth. Increase the amount of time you spend with your squirtle each day until you get used to its presence enough to feel comfortable around it.
As a note, this may not completely cure your fear of water-types in general, but at the very least, growing used or even close to a single water-type may help you handle brief interactions with others. If you wish to rid yourself completely of your fear of water-types, you’ll need to confront both your past traumas and the fear itself. Professional therapy may be a good idea.
While paras by and large retains its own mind before evolution and can potentially regain some semblance of independence (such as in the case of paras separating from their mushrooms when exposed to hot, dry environments), the truth is, not really, anonymous. Prior to evolution, the mushroom feeds on paras, which doesn’t necessarily kill them but does actually hinder their growth. Paras that never evolve tend to be weaker and more lethargic as time goes on (more so than most other bug-types, that is), and their life expectancy is less than fifteen years.
However, upon evolution, the host’s mind is completely absorbed by the mushroom, resulting in an organism that’s essentially a mushroom driving an insect body. While this may seem gruesome, the mind of the paras still exists within the complete organism; it’s simply mixed into that of the mushroom. (That is, your parasect can still remember you and everything it experienced with you. It’s simply a mix of mushroom and bug that’s mostly mushroom.) Moreover, because the parasect’s body is essentially that of the fungus, the fungus stops feeding on its host, allowing it to grow in tandem with itself. That is to say, a parasect’s life expectancy is far longer than that of a paras, and it wouldn’t be unusual to have a parasect experience a sudden boost in energy and appetite.
In other words, while it’s true that the parasect host had been taken over and essentially “swallowed” by its mushroom parasite, on the other hand, the act of doing so allows it to live a longer, pain-free life. Meanwhile, it’s true that paras has more independence than its evolved form, but it also is constantly hindered by its own parasitic mushrooms. So … quite honestly, one could argue either way, but I personally think that being taken over by a different species that grants me a boost in energy, special abilities, and a longer life span is a fair trade for a bit of bodily autonomy.
But then again, I’ve also been told I’m odd like that.
The Pokédex According to Bill 