When the Work Suits You
When you do work that suits you, you can do it with joy. Efficiency rises right along with it.
Animal-assisted activity is a program in which people work side by side with animals who cannot speak a word. Safety and efficiency matter, of course—but what matters most of all is aptitude: whether the animal can take genuine pleasure in the work.
So which animals are suited to animal-assisted activity?
Those without a trace of aggression. Those with a high capacity to adapt. Those rich in sociability. And every one of those qualities must rest upon a foundation of deep, unshakable trust between the animal and its guardian.
Woof woof woof!
In the examination hall, a Maltese barked loud enough to bring the walls down.
"Go! I said go! Get out of here!"
The Maltese was picking a fight with the Sapsali standing right in front of it. Sapsaree, however, did not so much as twitch.
In the old days—before he had met the family he had now—that strutting little Maltese would already have been sent flying. But Sapsaree was smiling.
"Heheh. He looks just like Mongi, he does."
A dog who resembled his friend, yapping away so cutely—how could he possibly get angry? Sapsaree looked toward Benefactor Hyungnim. Hyungnim nodded, a smile on his face, and spoke softly.
"You're doing well."
Watching Hyungnim praise him, Sapsaree broke into a wide, delighted grin.
Hehe.
"Sapsaree has a truly wonderful temperament. No aggression, plenty of sociability, and such strong patience. Excellent, really."
The little one who looked like Mongi yapped and vanished, and this time a person who looked just like the Strong Hyungnim started kneading Sapsaree's body with great, rough hands. But Sapsaree understood.
It's not that he hates me, it isn't. He was only handling him a little firmly, that was all. The Strong Hyungnim always touched him just like this, so Sapsaree remained perfectly at ease. Once again, he offered a gentle smile—and once again, he was praised.
"Sapsaree is enduring this so well. Doesn't bark at a stranger, doesn't even go on guard. Wonderful."
And then a moving chair appeared, with a person sitting on it. Among the little mouse toys Hyungnim Hoesaegi and Hyungnim Gkamnyangi played with, there were ones that moved just like this. Whenever the hyungnims chased those toys, Sapsaree would quietly get out of the way. So when the chair carrying a person began to whir forward, Sapsaree stepped aside just as he did for the mouse toys, making room for it to pass.
The people in the training hall burst into applause.
Clap, clap, clap, clap.
"There aren't many dogs who pass this on the first try. Sapsaree is truly remarkable."
"Our Sapsaree is pretty smart, you know."
The corners of Sapsaree's mouth twitched.
Heehee. They said Sapsaree is amazing, they did.
The more he heard his own name praised, the fonder he grew of it. He was wagging his tail in delight when, this time, a cat approached. To be precise, the cat did not walk over on its own—it arrived in someone's arms. The person holding the cat exchanged a few words with Benefactor Hyungnim.
Hyungnim Hoesaegi, Hyungnim Gkamnyangi, and the park cats. Sapsaree spent far more time with cats than with other dogs, and so he greeted this one with a rush of warmth.
"Hello!"
The cat, however, did not answer. It lifted its chin high, arranged its face into a look of haughty elegance, and extended a front paw toward him.
Wow. Those paws are way smaller than the hyungnims', they are!
The four small, slender legs were dark; the body was light. The face was a deep color, like the legs. The fur was short, but longer than Hyungnim Gkamnyangi's. It was a different feeling from every cat he had ever known—something mysterious, something wondrous.
The trouble was, Sapsaree had no idea what this cat was doing.
What is it?
Was it asking for a treat? Or showing off those sleek, glossy legs?
Sapsaree lifted his head and looked at the cat. A slender body, a neck stretched long, and upon it a small, finely made, utterly charming face. At its center, a jet-black little nose. And then—
Wow… they're the color of the sky, they are.
Gazing into eyes clearer and cleaner than the sky itself, Sapsaree tilted his head. They were such beautiful eyes, and yet he had the strangest feeling he had seen them somewhere before. Where had he ever looked into eyes so luminous, so lovely?
He thought of the park cats, one by one—and then he barked it out.
"I saw them there, I did! In Hyungnim Gkamnyangi's treasure box, I did!"
At once, a voice of the most refined dignity flowed from the cat's mouth.
"To think you would compare me to a treasure box. I can't say I'm pleased. Still, I shall forgive you."
Then, with a swift little motion, it lowered its front paw and gave its own leg a quick, elegant lick.
Ah! So the leg had been itchy. That was why it had wanted to be scratched?
Watching the cat trot away with tiny, quick steps, Sapsaree muttered,
"He can scratch himself, he can."
That was how you got the itchy spot just right, after all. Sapsaree thought it a very strange cat. But it vanished from his memory soon enough—because he had received the certificate he had waited and waited and waited for.
Yahoo!
At last he had obtained the kind of photograph Hyungnim Bangwool-i used to show off so proudly.
"Heehee. I finally got a treasure, I did!"
Back at Golmokjib, Sapsaree took the photograph of himself and Hyungnim smiling so brightly and laid it with the greatest care in the box Hyungnim had given him—the one for keeping precious things.
The following week, Sapsaree put on a yellow vest with his certification attached and set off with Benefactor Hyungnim for the Community Welfare Center. On his back, he and Hyungnim were smiling.
Heehee. There's one in the treasure box too, there is.
The fact that there was another photograph of him together with Hyungnim made him feel wonderfully secure. Even if he lost this one, there would still be another. Of course he would never, ever lose it—but still, his heart was at ease.
Arriving at the Community Welfare Center, Sapsaree squared his shoulders, lifted his chin high, and strode inside with great, proud steps.
"Ahem! I have arrived, I have!"
He walked in so splendidly that the grandmothers and grandfathers came forward to welcome him.
"Aigoo, our little darling. Sapsaree, come here."
"Come on in. But what's this?"
Ta-da! Sapsaree turned to show them his back, showing off with all his heart.
"I'm together with Hyungnim, I am!"
"Heh heh, I see, I see. Showing off that you passed the test, are you!"
"Didn't you go off to study? And you passed the test too? So clever."
"You did so well."
"The way you were walking was so majestic—like a triumphant general returning from the battlefield. I thought something good must have happened, and here you'd gone and passed the test on the first try."
The grandfathers and grandmothers assumed Sapsaree was walking so proudly because he had passed an examination, when in truth it was because he now had a photograph with Hyungnim. Whether they misunderstood or not, Sapsaree did not mind in the slightest. The grandmothers and grandfathers were here to welcome him, and on his back he carried his treasure. That was enough.
Sapsaree greeted the grandmothers and grandfathers, then walked over to the window. The bashful grandfather was showing him a great deal of interest.
The hyungnims were right, they were.
They had said if he waited, it would come—and the bashful grandfather had finally turned his heart toward him. The bashful grandfather had acknowledged his popularity, that was what it was. With the grandfathers and grandmothers praising him like this, he supposed he had no choice. Sapsaree decided to accept his victory with grace, and to be good to the bashful grandfather who now gazed up at him with such admiration.
At times like this, a tap-tap of encouragement with the front paw was best.
Sapsaree stood before the grandfather and lifted a front paw. Then he set that paw against the grandfather's back. He pressed, steadily, gently, pouring warmth into the touch—take courage, and let's get along from now on.
Whether the meaning had gotten through or not, the grandfather turned around, revolving slowly in his chair. Sapsaree lowered his paw and looked at him with a calm, composed gaze. The grandfather seemed moved by his bold and embracing manner. He looked down at Sapsaree with moist eyes.
And yet—
"Th-that's strange, it is."
That look was not the look of someone gazing in envy. It was not a look of reverence, either. That look was, well…
What is it?
The grandfather was looking down at him with a strange expression, as though he were crying and smiling at the same time. Sapsaree wrapped both front legs around him and held on tight. He simply felt that he had to.
A moment later, the grandfather's gentle hand came to rest on his head.
The grandfather kept stroking his head, saying things Sapsaree could not quite understand. A touch so full of affection. Sapsaree felt strange. It felt good—and yet it felt odd. He remembered the time he had guarded a dark house all by himself. It was as though the grandfather were comforting that self from long ago. A lonely, desolate, hollow sort of feeling—and the grandfather's warm hand seemed to be filling it in.
The grandfather who had been stroking his head got down from the chair, gathered Sapsaree into a firm embrace, and patted him, over and over.
"G-Grandpa!"
Sapsaree leaned the whole of his body against him.
"That's it. That's it."
Looking into Sapsaree's eyes, Jang Pan-ho reached out before he even knew what he was doing. In the gaze of the little one grinning so brightly, a deep loneliness lingered. It overlapped with the image of himself, shut away alone in his room, aching with loneliness.
He did not know why. Why would a creature living with such a kind-hearted veterinarian feel lonely? Or perhaps—people said Sapsali dogs were clever—perhaps the dog still remembered a childhood of being separated from his mother. There was no way to know. He only knew that he had to hold the little one in front of him. And so he did.
And yet, strangely, it felt as though he were the one being held. This creature—Sapsaree—was holding his own painful, guilty feelings.
"Everyone, as I mentioned beforehand, today we'll be doing outdoor activities with these kids. We'll try some simple exercises with them in the playground just out front. A walk, too. How does that sound?"
"Heh heh, well now. To think I'll be taking a walk with a dog. I'm rather looking forward to it."
The elderly residents rose from their seats in high spirits, but Jang Pan-ho remained sitting, and Lee Jun, standing beside him, spoke up.
"Mr. Jang, shall we go?"
Jang Pan-ho shook his head.
"No. This is enough for today."
Simply having felt the dog's warmth—Sapsaree's warmth—was enough. He meant it.
"That's right. Mr. Jang was brave today. That's quite a bit of progress as it is."
"That's true. Just being able to touch Sapsaree is remarkable enough."
"Is today the only day that counts? Mr. Jang, try the walk next week."
They all encouraged Jang Pan-ho as they headed out to the playground, and Jang Pan-ho simply kept his seat.
That day, when Jang Pan-ho returned home, he opened the dresser. It was a three-tier dresser he had not opened once in the past year. In the topmost drawer, colorful little clothes were arranged with care—from garments no bigger than the palm of a hand, tiny and utterly precious, to ones five times that size. Beside them lay a red collar, a yellow harness, and a little blue outfit with wings. The winged outfit had a harness attached to it as well. All of it was the walking gear Janggoon had used.
"Janggoon-ah…"
Jang Pan-ho unfolded each piece of clothing with painstaking care, looking at them, remembering him.
"You wore this on your first walk. This one our daughter bought when she got her first paycheck. And we took a commemorative photo in this one at my seventieth birthday celebration…"
Every garment held a memory. And in those memories, it was not only Janggoon and himself. His daughter and his wife were all there together.
"Hmm…"
Having traveled through the past by way of the clothes, Jang Pan-ho opened the second drawer. Inside were photographs—three large albums, and frames both big and small. He turned over the topmost frame. Inside it, he and Janggoon were beaming, wearing the very same expression as the photograph attached to Sapsaree's vest, the one of Lee Jun and Sapsaree grinning so brightly.
Jang Pan-ho stroked the frame.
A single tear dropped onto the glass. It had fallen from Jang Pan-ho's eye. And yet the corner of his mouth had lifted, just a little. Looking at Janggoon's photograph made him sad—but it also brought back the times he had been happy simply to be together.
One by one, Jang Pan-ho stood each face-down frame upright. In the frames, he and Janggoon were smiling; his wife and Janggoon were smiling; his daughter was holding Janggoon in her arms. One photograph, one memory. In those memories, Janggoon, his wife, his daughter, and he himself were all smiling.
The fragments of memory he had traced through the clothes took shape and sank into his heart. The teardrops falling from Jang Pan-ho's eyes grew heavier. At last they streamed down his face. Leaving the tears to fall, he opened an album this time. In the thick album, even more vivid memories were kept. The tears kept flowing, but the corners of Jang Pan-ho's mouth rose even higher. His eyes, too, curved into crescents, smiling.
A strange sight: tears running down, and yet he was smiling. From somewhere deep in Jang Pan-ho's heart, a gentle warmth began to bloom.
At last he opened the bottom drawer. There, Janggoon's favorite toys were piled in a heap. Beneath them lay the cushion Janggoon had usually napped on, and beneath that…
Jang Pan-ho slipped his hand under the cushion. His fingers closed on something hard and smooth—a mobile phone.
"Hah."
He let out a long breath and drew the phone out. He pressed the power button. Naturally, it did not turn on. He found the charger and plugged it in.
A moment later, the screen lit up—and Janggoon was looking straight at him, beaming wide.