Bonds That Don't End
The after-party at the pension—the final stage of the animal-assisted therapy for the grandmothers and grandfathers—came to a splendid close. The schedule had ended, but the relationships had not.
The elders stayed lively in the group chat, steadily deepening the ties between them. A quiet camaraderie ran through it all: they were weathering the depression of a difficult old age together. That alone was a great source of strength.
And there were beings who gave those elders even greater strength—the animals, who offered the same unwavering warmth and laughter every time. The elders showed enormous affection for the three at Mongmong Animal Hospital. Of course, they felt the same about the other animals as well.
So Lee Jun would occasionally post updates about the three in the chat, and the response was overwhelmingly good. The elders, who had been waiting with all their hearts for the next photographs of the trio, were delighted. Watching the group chat come alive, Lee Jun was happy too. And when he read the grandmothers' and grandfathers' messages aloud to Hoesaegi, Gkamnyangi, and Sapsaree, the three of them were delighted as well. Then he would film that and show it to the elders, who of course adored it.
Simply posting photos and videos of the three was enough to give the elders a surge of vitality. Perhaps that was why—even though Lee Jun's days of exams and surgeries often vanished before he knew it, making it hard to post every day—he still tried to upload something whenever he found a gap.
Perhaps, in the elders of that group chat, Lee Jun was seeing the grandfather he missed so much…….
Having finished his rounds of the inpatient ward, Lee Jun came into the director's office, sank into his chair, and picked up the phone lying on the desk. He hadn't looked at it since lunch, so a pile of messages was waiting.
"Let's see……."
Lee Jun read through each message with care. Some were just checking in, but many were from classmates and juniors asking about cases. When it was urgent they called the hospital; otherwise they asked by message like this. After reading them all and sending carefully written replies that captured the gist, Lee Jun tapped open the elders' group chat.
A smile bloomed on his face as he worked through the accumulated messages one by one. There were photos of what they'd eaten for lunch, stories of how happy they were that their grandchildren had visited, stories of going to the hospital to pick up medicine. But most of it was about the animals they had grown so fond of.
At the messages saying they missed Hoesaegi, Gkamnyangi, and Sapsaree, Lee Jun chuckled and uploaded a short video—footage of the three playing in the yard at Golmokjib before breakfast.
"They'll like this, won't they?"
Sure enough, comments poured in the moment he posted it. But Lee Jun never got to read those comments. A knock sounded at the door, and Kwak Suho walked in.
"Long time no see."
"Trip to Namhae go okay?"
"Yeah."
Kwak Suho had spent the past month traveling around the Namhae area photographing street animals, and had come back a few days ago.
"Nice down there?"
"Of course. The water's great, the mountains are great. And there are so many animals, too."
"Get a lot of footage?"
"A ton. There were so many adorable cats. That's probably why…… ah, never mind. It was really great. Ha, hahaha."
Kwak Suho laughed and swallowed a sigh. Whew. I almost said there were a lot of sick cats. If I told him that, how much would this busy guy's heart ache? Lee Jun only got one day off a week, two at most, and even those he spent on volunteer work—he barely had a real day of rest. I can't pile more work on him here
Kwak Suho's expression was bright, but looking at Lee Jun, whose face had grown so thin, he clucked his tongue inwardly. If Lee Jun could have peered into Kwak Suho's heart, he would have said, You worry about yourself first. Kwak Suho, after all, was pouring himself into the street animals as well.
"You did another good deed this time, I hear."
Lee Jun was thinking What deed? when Kwak Suho went on.
"It's a shame. I should've gone along and snapped a mountain of photos of the elders' memories. And of the little cuties, too."
"Ah, that? I was thinking the same thing."
If Kwak Suho had been there, a masterpiece would surely have come of it.
"Next time, you take some good ones for them."
"Sure. Definitely call me then. Anyway—where are our little cuties?"
This was why Kwak Suho had come to Mongmong Animal Hospital. He'd come to photograph the cuties and their friends. It had been a request from the three. The three had demanded a click of their friends. When Lee Jun showed them the after-party photos and videos, they had declared that those were not clicks. They wanted the clicks of their magnificent hyung-nim, and they had pounded the living-room floorboards with their small, insignificant front paws. Gkamnyangi's protest had been the loudest of all.
"The dogs are at the first-floor playground, the cats on the second. The kids'll be waiting for you."
"Haha, those rascals."
Just imagining the cats greeting him with delighted meows, a laugh spilled from his mouth all on its own. Watching Kwak Suho laugh, Lee Jun laughed too. He was remembering how the three, who had been protesting like picketers every single day, had gone tearing around the living room with joy the moment they heard Kwak Suho was coming to take pictures.
"You're a lucky man, Kwak Suho."
"What's that out of nowhere?"
"Hoesaegi, Gkamnyangi, and Sapsaree say that what you take is a real click. Anyone else's photos aren't clicks."
That only seemed to confuse him more. Kwak Suho narrowed his eyes at Lee Jun, but Lee Jun had no intention of explaining.
"Come on, the kids'll be waiting. The dogs are probably having a blast on the first floor right now, so we should hit the second floor first, yeah?"
Mongmong Animal Hospital had two playgrounds: the Rehabilitation Playground on the first floor, and the rest playground on the second. The Rehabilitation Playground was a space to make up for the insufficient exercise of indoor animals. You could even run a simple agility course there, so Sapsaree and Bangwool-i were running around on the first floor.
"Alright."
The two of them walked up to the second floor. The 2nd Floor Cat Playground was small, but it had a garden—a playground like a sun-drenched park—and a short walking path connected to it. It was a space for animals who wanted a quiet stroll or a leisurely rest, and it also served as a walking space for hospitalized animals.
Just as Lee Jun had told Kwak Suho, Sapsaree, Bangwool-i, and a few other dogs were gathered playing on the first-floor playground. On the second floor were the five of them: Hoesaegi, Gkamnyangi, Banana, Bongbong, and Lady Nana.
Gkamnyangi and Lady Nana were strolling slowly along the walking path. Though it was called a walking path, it wasn't outdoors. The weather was still chilly, so the glass folding doors were closed. The doors were so transparent you wouldn't notice them unless you came close, reflecting the outside so clearly that even indoors it gave the illusion of being in an outdoor garden.
Soft light filtered into the playground through the clean glass. It wasn't moonlight—it was the glow given off by the surrounding buildings. But even that was more than enough for Gkamnyangi. He loved it. The other three sat on the cat tower watching the two stroll along, pressed close together.
Lee Jun and Kwak Suho were watching all five from outside. The structure had been designed so that from inside you couldn't see out well, but from outside you could see in clearly—a consideration, so that guardians and staff could watch the animals playing inside, while the animals rested comfortably without feeling outside eyes on them.
"No matter how many times I look at this place, it really is well made."
Kwak Suho, delighted by the spacious, pleasant space, filmed the inside as he looked it over carefully. He wanted to capture them as they naturally were.
"But that one…… is that a serval? Why is it so big?"
Kwak Suho pointed at Bongbong, who was swaying his long tail back and forth on the cat tower.
"You think that's a serval?"
"Well, if it were, you'd have reported it on the spot."
Serval cats are a protected species under CITES—the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora. Private ownership is, of course, prohibited.
"Then a Savannah cat?"
"Yeah. When his guardian applied for him as a therapy assistant cat, the people in charge even ran a genetic test because they were worried he might be a serval."
"I would've done the same if I were them. Anyway, that guy's build is incredible."
"It is. But that guy—he's a total affection sponge."
"Really? That cheetah-looking thing does cute acts?"
"Oh, you should've seen them when they were saying goodbye. They cried so pitifully I could barely stand to watch."
Lee Jun was grinning even as he said it.
"You're laughing?"
"Well, yeah. It was so funny. The five of them hugged each other and wailed, saying they might never see each other again, telling each other to take care and live a long, long life."
Lee Jun pulled out his phone and showed Kwak Suho the video from that day. On the screen, the five of them wept bitterly, tears dripping down. In the scene of them hugging and crying, Gkamnyangi and Lady Nana were in close-up—Gkamnyangi buried in Lady Nana's embrace, sobbing his heart out.
"Aigoo, Gkamnyangi must've been the most heartbroken. He's crying the saddest of all."
Watching Kwak Suho call him a tenderhearted little guy, Lee Jun smiled faintly. He had absolutely no intention of mentioning their flirty little relationship. If he did, a video of the two of them would go up with some bizarre thumbnail. Can't have that. Lee Jun zipped his lips, determined to protect Gkamnyangi's privacy. Instead, he showed the next video.
"This is them being happy when they met last week."
The goodbye had meant that Grandfather Jang Pan-ho's cohort of the therapy program had ended—not that the therapy animals were parting ways. The volunteer work with new elders continued. So when the animals met again, they hugged each other with joy. That Gkamnyangi was the happiest went without saying.
"Hoesaegi and Gkamnyangi look at ease, don't they?"
"They kind of do."
"It's because they met their friends."
"Friends? Those guys have tons of friends. All those park cats are their friends. Nothing new about that."
"Those are kids they have to protect. The weight is different."
Kwak Suho nodded, thinking of the cats he'd met in Namhae, living on streets riddled with every kind of danger.
"That's true."
Lee Jun looked at the cats, thinking the same thing.
"Let's go in."
Kwak Suho took all the clicks Hoesaegi and Gkamnyangi had been yearning for, to their hearts' content. Solo shots, group shots. Couple shots, too. Of course, the couple shots weren't something Kwak Suho had aimed for—they had simply fallen into his lap as a byproduct of his efforts to take photographs that were beautiful, adorable, and magnificent. That this photograph would become Gkamnyangi's most precious treasure was beyond any doubt.
Kwak Suho went down to the first floor and took friendship photos and videos of Sapsaree and Bangwool-i. After the friendship photos, the cats and dogs played for about another hour, promised to meet and play again next time, and left the animal hospital with their guardians. Lee Jun saw them off, then went to dinner with Kwak Suho and the hospital family.
The place they went to eat was a sundae soup restaurant—the kind that served steaming bowls of blood sausage and rice soup. Lee Jun, Kwak Suho, Go Gi-jin, Cha Da-jeong, Jang Sora, and a few of the staff occupied two tables.
"So where's Dr. Yoo?"
"He said he'd cover the ward. Stepped out so we could eat in peace. We'll pack some sundae soup for him on the way."
"I hear Dr. Yoo likes pizza, actually."
Jang Sora said this as she ordered pizza and pasta on a delivery app for the staff remaining at the hospital.
"Is that even a proper meal, now? He's on night duty today—he's gotta have a nice hot broth. Hyung-nim, let's pack up some sundae soup when we head back."
"Let's do that."
Lee Jun agreed with Go Gi-jin, when Cha Da-jeong chimed in from the side.
"Dr. Yoo can't eat sundae soup."
"Huh? What's that supposed to mean? He can't eat somethin' this tasty?"
Go Gi-jin picked up a piece of sundae from the plate in the center of the table and asked.
"He used to. But after he necropsied a dog with heartworm, he hasn't been able to eat it. He says when he sees glass noodles packed into the intestines, it reminds him of heartworms packed into the pulmonary artery, or something like that……."
Cha Da-jeong said this and then picked up a piece of sundae from the plate and ate it.
"Well, I s'pose that could happen. I was mighty shocked myself the first time, see. Eotta, those little rascals look exactly like these swollen glass noodles. Ugh, how nasty they were, I tell ya I nearly jumped out of my skin—and why've they got to be so long, too?"
"They are long. Eight to twelve inches or so."
Lee Jun, with a perfectly unperturbed expression, mimed measuring the length with his hands, then picked up a piece of sundae and ate it. At the three of them—Cha Da-jeong, Go Gi-jin, and Lee Jun—Kwak Suho set his chopsticks down on the table with a clack.
"Ah, come on! Can you not say that kind of thing while we're eating? I can picture it. I can picture it!"
Kwak Suho shuddered, recalling photographs of heartworms packed into a pulmonary artery like glass noodles.
"Eotta, our Kwak hyung-nim's got a mighty weak stomach, don't he? Sorry 'bout that. Hyung-nim! Eat up, now. I won't say another word."
"This guy's a bit delicate."
"I'm not delicate—you people are the weird ones!"
Kwak Suho's face crumpled, and everyone went "Whoa" and burst out laughing.
As that warm, companionable meal continued, Yoo Mu-hwan received a guardian who had come in carrying a Schnauzer. The intake form said they had come in because the dog hadn't been eating well the past few days and wasn't moving much. And just as the form described, the Schnauzer looked terribly emaciated, and seemed to have no strength at all.
This isn't just simple lethargy.
As Yoo Mu-hwan assessed the Schnauzer's condition with a visual exam, the guardian spoke.
"Our Teun-teun-i's getting old, so he just won't eat. I think he's got an upset stomach—could you give him a shot of digestive medicine?"
At the guardian's words, Yoo Mu-hwan let out a sigh inwardly. It was a sigh that came from worry for the Schnauzer in front of him—Teun-teun-i. But he couldn't let it show.
"Yes, I understand. But, ma'am—to give him an injection, we need to examine where Teun-teun-i is hurting, you see?"
"What kind of exam? Can't you just give him a shot of digestive medicine since his stomach's off?"
"If he were young, we might do that, but Teun-teun-i is fourteen. So there might be other things going on as well—I think even a simple exam would be a good idea."
At Yoo Mu-hwan's words, the guardian let out a deep sigh. Then she spoke.
"Can't you just give him the shot today?"
Yoo Mu-hwan was about to say that he couldn't give an injection without an examination. Then, without thinking, he looked at the Schnauzer. His eyes met those of the Schnauzer, who was gazing steadily at him.
A pitiful, pleading look.
"Then how about we just do a very simple exam?"
"A simple one? Hmm…… is that very expensive?"
Even a simple blood test ran a considerable cost. Yoo Mu-hwan thought it over. I'll just settle the bill myself. Having made up his mind, he spoke.
"It doesn't cost much. Twenty dollars."
"Twenty dollars? I heard exams are insanely expensive—if that's all it is, please go ahead."
The guardian stroked the Schnauzer with relief. A faint smile lingered on the face of the woman stroking him.