A Warmth That Lasts
Mongmong Animal Hospital had four inpatient wards, each set apart so that the animals admitted there could rest in comfort and receive the treatment their condition required: a canine ward, an intensive care unit, a feline ward, and a large-breed ward for the bigger dogs.
Teun-teun-i had been admitted to the ICU.
The door creaked. When Yoo Mu-hwan opened it and stepped inside, Teun-teun-i, who had been lying prone, lifted his head just enough to peek. Those eyes — the same piteous eyes Yoo had seen on the first day — were looking straight back at him.
Until that afternoon, three patients had occupied the ICU, but two had been moved to the general ward in the evening. Now only a dachshund admitted for acute pancreatitis and Teun-teun-i remained in the room. The dachshund slept on, unable even to open its eyes at the sound of someone entering. One sleeping dachshund, and Teun-teun-i watching him. Neither of them looked urgent.
In that case...
Yoo Mu-hwan spoke to Teun-teun-i.
"Teun-teun-i, I'm going to check on this friend first, so just wait a little, okay?"
The old Yoo Mu-hwan would never have said such a thing. But seeing those same piteous eyes from the first day, the words simply came out. He didn't actually believe Teun-teun-i would understand him. He just wanted to comfort the little dog, and the words had slipped free on their own.
And as he spoke, a thought occurred to him. This must be why the director talks to them like this. Words that rose from a wish to soothe sick animals, to set them at ease.
Animals were exquisitely sensitive to atmosphere. They knew, with uncanny precision, who liked them, who disliked them, and who was afraid of them. Lee Jun treated them with genuine sincerity, so of course they followed him.
But is sincerity alone enough for them to do everything the director asks so well? To Yoo Mu-hwan's eyes, it looked as though the animals understood Lee Jun's words the way a person would. And when he listened to Lee Jun speaking on the animals' behalf, it almost seemed as if Lee Jun understood their words in return.
You could tell just by looking at these two — neither of them was wearing an Elizabethan collar. At any other animal hospital, ten out of ten patients receiving IV fluids in their kennels would be wearing one: a safety measure to keep them from chewing through the line or yanking it out. Here at Mongmong Animal Hospital, maybe one dog or cat in ten wore a collar at all.
"I told them not to touch the IV line, so they won't. The first time I heard him say that, I honestly thought the director was being a bit much."
To put it more bluntly, Lee Jun had looked like a man who'd lost his mind. It hadn't taken a full day for Yoo to realize that he himself had been the one overreacting.
"Nobody actually caused an accident. They don't even bark. Looking at that, it really does seem like they understand everything the director says."
Thinking that, he turned toward the dachshund and started walking — and that was when Teun-teun-i nodded.
"Huh?"
A nod, as if the little dog had understood every word. It had to be his imagination, of course. Still, it made Yoo Mu-hwan feel good.
"You little guy."
Muttering that, he checked the dachshund's kennel. It was fairly spacious. A large mat covered the floor, and a second, thicker mat about half that size had been laid at the far end. The dachshund was sleeping on its side on the rear mat, not the front one. A dog that had been unable even to lie down from the pain of pancreatitis — hunched up with its back tightly arched — now sleeping on its side meant the pain had eased considerably.
"You were whimpering about how much it hurt, and now look at you. Feeling better, huh?"
Watching the dachshund sleep with such a peaceful expression, Yoo Mu-hwan's mouth curved into a small smile. He checked the patient monitor, confirmed the fluids were dripping properly, and then walked over to Teun-teun-i.
"How are you feeling, Teun-teun-i?"
Wag, wag. Teun-teun-i gave his short tail a couple of lazy swings. Because he was lying prone, Yoo could see the tail moving.
"Well, look at that. You've got a little more energy than a minute ago, huh?"
Yoo Mu-hwan smiled softly, pulled a chair up in front of Teun-teun-i's kennel, and sat down. The two of them faced each other through the glass door.
"How's your tummy, Teun-teun-i? You're not hungry, are you?"
There was no way he was hungry. Or rather — he might have been hungry, but he wouldn't have any appetite. This was a dog who wouldn't want to eat a single thing. Even so, Yoo Mu-hwan wanted to talk to him, even if it was only like this.
And once again, Teun-teun-i answered. With clear, bright eyes, he looked at Yoo and shook his head from side to side.
"You little guy."
Yoo said the same thing as before and huffed a quiet laugh. Then he went on.
"I'll give you lots of delicious things, so get better soon, okay? Get strong like your name, and let's go home. Home, where Mom is waiting."
At that moment, Teun-teun-i, who had been lying down, stood up. He lifted his head and let out a small woo-woo-woo. The howl was quiet, but a deep sorrow clung to it. Or perhaps it only sounded that way because the sight of him howling was so pitiful.
Click. Yoo Mu-hwan opened the kennel door and stroked Teun-teun-i's head.
"That's right. That's right. I'll make sure you get to go home. I promise."
The small, firm head settled into his palm, and a warm heat bloomed against his skin. Yoo Mu-hwan hoped that warmth would last a long, long time.
On night duty, Yoo couldn't stay in the same room indefinitely — there were quite a few patients in the other wards as well. Even so, every time he came into the ICU, he spoke to Teun-teun-i and stroked him. Perhaps that was why, by the fourth visit, Teun-teun-i was sleeping in a comfortable position.
"You little guy. Looks like you're finally getting some rest."
Yoo Mu-hwan watched the sleeping dog for a long while.
A day had passed since Teun-teun-i's admission. His BUN had dropped to 99.2 — down 12.8 from the day before. Creatinine had fallen to 2.6 as well. The numbers were still high, but for a single day, it was considerable progress.
The guardian who had come to visit him looked better, too.
"Aigoo, did my Teun-teun-i sleep well?"
Flap-flap. At his owner's words he gave a woof and paddled his short tail. The spark of life had come back into him, more than the day before.
"Aigoo, once this one starts eating, he'll be running around again, won't he?"
Stroking Teun-teun-i, the guardian asked Yoo Mu-hwan,
"Doctor, has he been eating at all?"
"It's still a bit early for that. If you look here, it says 8.9. That's phosphorus, one of the electrolytes in the body. His appetite should come back once this number drops below 5."
"I see."
"If you have time, would you take Teun-teun-i for a little walk?"
"A walk...? Is that all right?"
"There's a space on the second floor where the inpatients can get some fresh air and walk around. It would still be too much for him to walk a lot, but one loop should be fine. If he looks tired, just pick him up."
Yoo said it remembering how Teun-teun-i had longed for his owner.
"W-well, all right. But if we stay too long, it'll be hard on him, won't it?"
"Yes, it would, at this stage. Don't make it too long — about thirty minutes should be fine. Shall we?"
With the IV line temporarily disconnected, Teun-teun-i was carried in his owner's arms up to the second-floor playground. Held like that, his face was wonderfully bright.
After a reunion of a little over an hour, Teun-teun-i returned to his kennel wearing a face full of worry. His muzzle jutted forward in a pout, his gaze dropped to the floor. Yoo Mu-hwan said to him,
"Teun-teun-i, after you get some sleep, she'll come again tomorrow."
But Teun-teun-i didn't seem to understand; his expression didn't change. He'd probably thought that seeing his owner meant they were going home together, and being brought back to the ward had crushed him.
Thinking that, Yoo went to find Lee Jun, who was on night duty.
"Director, there's something I need to tell you."
"Mm. Anything except 'switch night duty with me' or 'let me stay on nights until Teun-teun-i is discharged.'"
"Ah..."
Yoo Mu-hwan, robbed of his words, stammered, and Lee Jun went on.
"How did I know? Because I used to do the same thing. But I can't allow it. I know perfectly well you'd work yourself into the ground."
What I do myself is fine. What I won't stand for is my staff wearing themselves out. That was the kind of person Lee Jun was.
"And I'm fond of you, Dr. Yoo. Ah — not like that. I mean I want to keep working with you for a long time."
"Ah. Yes."
"Which means you need to stay healthy. That's how we get to work together for a long time. I'll take good care of Teun-teun-i, so don't worry, go home, and get some proper rest. You didn't sleep a wink last night, did you?"
"Even so..."
"Working hard is good, and I'm grateful — but if you keep that up, you'll go down all at once. Gone."
"Thank you for worrying about me. Then, Director — Teun-teun-i seems deeply hurt that his owner didn't take him home."
Yoo laid out what had been weighing on him. Lee Jun listened, then let out a shallow sigh.
"That's the dilemma. If a guardian visits during a stay and then leaves, the patients are crushed because they think they've been left behind at the hospital. If nobody visits, they despair because they think they've been abandoned."
"Exactly."
Lee Jun had wrestled with the same worry many times. But he was free of it now.
"I'll soothe Teun-teun-i. And I'll stroke him and hold him, just the way you did."
How did he know that, too?
Yoo Mu-hwan stared at Lee Jun with startled eyes. But Lee Jun just grinned and gave him a push between the shoulder blades.
"As of right now, Dr. Yoo is off duty!"
Under Lee Jun's orders, Yoo Mu-hwan left work in the afternoon sunlight, well before four. And the next day, his shift didn't start until two in the afternoon. But worried about Teun-teun-i, he came in before ten. Lee Jun looked at the arriving Yoo with an I-knew-it expression.
"I knew you'd do this. Teun-teun-i is fine. And his numbers dropped a little more from yesterday."
"How much?"
"BUN is 70, creatinine 2.2, and phosphorus 6."
"Wow. That's really improved."
"It has. All thanks to how well you took care of him, Dr. Yoo."
"I just followed the protocol, that's all."
That was what he said, but Yoo Mu-hwan felt good. His heart felt lighter, too. When the animals in your care improve, of course the attending veterinarian feels glad. That was only natural. But inside that natural gladness, Yoo was a little happier still. Of course, he didn't notice that about himself.
From a distance, though, Hoesaegi, Gkamnyangi, and Sapsaree had been watching him, and they broke into wide, knowing smiles.
Lee Jun, too, looked at Yoo with a meaningful expression and went on.
"Ah, I forgot to mention. I hear you explained everything to Teun-teun-i in great detail? He said he was grateful."
"Pardon?"
"He says that because you told him, he knows his owner is coming again today."
Words that made even less sense. Had Teun-teun-i really said such a thing? And yet, because it was Lee Jun saying it, it somehow sounded plausible.
"Is that... really true?"
"I'm telling you it is. Anyway — how long are you thinking of keeping Teun-teun-i admitted?"
"Well, if it were up to me..."
"You'd keep him the whole way, right?"
"I would, but we have to consider the guardian's wishes, and the hospital's situation as well..."
"I told you not to think about things like that."
"For now, I'm estimating five days to a week. By then the numbers should have come down, and home management ought to be possible."
"Then let's do that. His appetite will probably come back this evening or tomorrow, don't you think? It'd be nice if he could eat today."
"It would."
"Right. He needs to eat to get his strength back. Hmm. Start him on Renal Liquid for now."
"The Liquid is a bit..."
It was a prescription diet that ran about fifteen dollars a bottle. And for a seven-kilogram dog like Teun-teun-i, one full bottle a day was the proper dose of that expensive formula.
"Don't worry about it. I'll tell Manager Jang to stock plenty, so feed him as much as he needs. Once his appetite comes back little by little, you can switch him to the prescription cans."
When Eom Jin-han had said Mongmong Animal Hospital was looking for a veterinarian, Yoo Mu-hwan had submitted his resume immediately. Senior Lee Jun's style of practice had been the very ideal he himself had always hoped for.
And the Mongmong Animal Hospital he had walked into was a place where every day brought one astonishment after another.
I really did get a good job.
Yoo Mu-hwan promised himself that even if Lee Jun told him to leave Mongmong Animal Hospital, he would not go — and he bowed at the waist.
"Thank you, Director."