Don't Eat This. You'll Die
As the weather improved, the number of dogs out for walks grew by the day.
Every morning, Lee Jun issued the same instructions to his staff.
Keep the endoscope on standby, ready to deploy at a moment's notice. The gastric lavage equipment, too. And never, ever let the emetics run out.
The reason was simple. He was preparing for the accidents that happened when dogs swallowed foreign objects on their walks. Foreign-body ingestion was an emergency measured in minutes and seconds. The shorter the prep time, the higher the survival rate.
Lee Jun had lost count of how many times he had reached down an endoscope to pull a foreign object from an esophagus, or from a stomach packed shut—and every time, it broke his heart.
Why did you eat that? Why swallow something that would make you suffer like this?
He wanted to tell them. So this time, he planned to explain, through a video, exactly what they must never eat.
Was there really any need? Search the internet and you would drown in that kind of information.
Of course there was. Because he wasn't going to tell the guardians. He was going to tell the animals themselves.
Having laid out a plan for the three of them to deliver a warning directly to the other animals, Lee Jun allowed himself a small smile.
There was a reason he began preparing for foreign-body accidents the instant the weather turned. More time outdoors meant more discarded food scattered through the parks and along the streets.
Fried chicken, hot dogs, fish-cake sticks, snacks, jokbal, tteokbokki, bread…
Rich, greasy, toasty-savory, salty food, glistening with oil. For dogs who ate the same bland kibble day in and day out, it was a fantasy buffet spread at their feet—a golden chance to slurp and smack their lips to their hearts' content.
I have to make sure they mention that crab sticks are a disaster too. That line should be Sapsaree's.
Not a bone—crab sticks? Was it an allergy? You could think that. But imitation crab sticks could cause choking deaths, too. Even tteokbokki had been known to asphyxiate a dog.
Lee Jun's shoulders gave a small shudder as the memory rose.
A Cocker Spaniel was rushed in as an emergency, gagging, on the verge of stopping breathing. What had choked the Cocker was a crab stick. A single soft, yielding stick of imitation crab had packed the esophagus shut.
The guardian had spotted the dog eating it and tried to snatch it away. The Cocker, determined not to lose its prize, had inhaled the rest. The long strip, swallowed in a panic, had lodged itself squarely in the esophagus and was strangling the dog from the inside.
Tteokbokki is dangerous, too.
Soft, slippery, and thin besides. Swallow it wrong and it slides straight down the throat in a single gulp.
A man had come bursting through the doors, sobbing that his dog was in agony after eating tteokbokki, the dog clutched in his arms. The snow-white Maltese in his embrace was already limp by the time they reached the hospital where Lee Jun was working.
The slick, slender rice cake had been sucked not into the esophagus, but into the airway.
If that dog were still alive, it would be about Mongi's age.
The Maltese had even looked a little like Mongi. Perhaps that was why, when Lee Jun first saw Mongi carried in in a young student's arms, that day had come back to him. Of course, the thing that had helped the treatment most was that Lee Jun could understand what Mongi was saying.
Ever since that day, whenever the chance arose, Lee Jun had warned guardians about the choking risk of soft, slippery crab sticks and tteokbokki. It still hadn't quite taken hold. Imitation crab, additives aside, just didn't look dangerous. Rice cakes were the same. Too many carbs? Beyond that, nobody seemed particularly worried.
Guardians did, however, accept that bones were dangerous—chicken bones, jokbal bones, the lot. Chicken bones, especially, needed no introduction. If a dog eats chicken bones, it dies had become so well-known it was almost a cliché.
A shard lodging in the esophagus or airway was an emergency. And choking wasn't the only danger chicken bones posed. Even if a dog chewed thoroughly and escaped asphyxiation, perforation and intestinal obstruction still waited. There was no telling whether a sharp fragment would pierce the stomach or the small intestine. A hole in the gut was an emergency on the spot.
And even if luck held and the bone didn't puncture anything, it wasn't over. A clump of bone blocking the stomach was an obstruction. That, too, could kill.
These days, though, we don't get many emergencies of dogs rushing in after swallowing chicken bones. Everyone knows chocolate, grapes, and onions are dangerous, too. They even know exactly why.
The more attentive guardians also knew not to give dogs avocado, xylitol, dairy, coffee, dried squid, and the rest. The same went for cats. Food that dogs couldn't eat was better kept away from cats as well.
Lee Jun was genuinely grateful for this climate—guardians who actually knew their animals' forbidden foods. The more careful the guardians, the fewer chances their companions had to be exposed to danger. When he had first started practicing, dogs rushed in with grape toxicity every autumn were hardly rare. Now they numbered fewer than ten a year.
"Compared to back then, things have gotten a lot better."
But that was only the guardians being careful. The ones actually doing the eating hadn't changed at all. The parties in question were the animals themselves.
"No matter how careful the guardians are, if they gulp it down in a split second, it's all for nothing. Especially on night walks. You can't see whether they're sniffing something or swallowing it."
Which was why Lee Jun had landed on this idea. Hoesaegi, Gkamnyangi, and Sapsaree will tell the kids themselves what they must never eat.
Working title: the Don't Eat This. You'll Die project.
Chicken bones, jokbal, bread—those were just the appetizers. The real stars were castor oil meal fertilizer and rat poison.
To carry the project out, Lee Jun called in Kwak Suho.
"Well, well. Finally getting to see our little cuties again. Heh heh heh."
"What are you talking about? Anyone listening would think you haven't seen Hoesaegi and Gkamnyangi in ages."
"We grilled meat out in the yard Saturday night, didn't we? Hyung-nim, it's only been three days—don't you remember? I slaved over that grill for you hyung-nims."
Go Gi-jin shot Kwak Suho a look.
"Ah, hahaha. It was delicious. Incredibly delicious. That aside, I really ought to thank your father for the meal… Oh, while I'm thinking of it, should I give him a call?"
"Don't bother."
"Huh?"
Kwak Suho's eyes blinked. Shot down in a single word. Go Gi-jin wasn't the type to get sulky over something like this…
"Dad'll be working right now, so he won't pick up."
"Ah, I see. Then I'll call him later. Tell him it was really delicious."
"Ain't no need to go thanking him over something like that."
"Still. You have to say thank you. It's not the first or second time, either… If your father hadn't sent meat that good, how would someone like me ever get to taste it?"
"Well… then just send him a video. He'd like that."
"A video? What video?"
"A video of the kids. You send him that and he'll be over the moon."
"That's all it takes?"
Kwak Suho blinked and asked again. Lee Jun, standing beside him, answered with a smile.
"Gi-jin's father adores our kids. He's also a die-hard subscriber to your channel."
"Is that sooo? Then I'd better shoot this really, really well."
Kwak Suho's mouth twitched into a grin.
"Anyway, where are the kids?"
"Third inpatient room, second floor."
"The third inpatient room? Isn't that the large-breed ward?"
"It is. There's a Siberian Husky and a Beagle admitted there, and they've gotten close."
Two days earlier, Hoesaegi and Gkamnyangi had gotten an earful from Lee Jun. The reason: they had used sick kids to show off their strength. Naturally, Lee Jun had handed down a punishment.
There were two parts. First, a week-long ban on the dental chews they always got after dinner. Second, they were to nurse the patients until both were discharged.
The nursing, in truth, wasn't much. Just keep them company so they wouldn't get bored, and report immediately if anything looked uncomfortable. The two of them were doing their jobs well.
"Must be from living with Sapsaree. They get along with the big ones, too. Then again, Hoesaegi and Gkamnyangi aren't ordinary cats."
Lee Jun grinned at Kwak Suho's words and added,
"Let's go."
"Right."
"Let's go, then."
"Yeah."
Go Gi-jin remained on the first floor while the other two headed for the stairs.
As they walked, Kwak Suho said,
"Gi-jin's been doing well with consults lately, huh?"
"Yeah. He can handle them on his own now. He's even at the point where he can see cats independently."
"Feels like just yesterday he was whining that cats hated him."
"It does. But Gi-jin's fearless, and he's soft-hearted, so he adapted fast."
"Fearless and soft-hearted sound like opposites, don't they?"
"I mean he can't stand seeing anyone in pain. That urge to fix them when he sees a sick kid. That's what I mean."
"Yeah, that does sound like Gi-jin. Anyway—not many patients today, huh?"
Kwak Suho said this as they passed the second-floor break room, glancing through the floor-to-ceiling glass. The windows were one-way: from the hallway you could see everything inside; from inside, you couldn't see out.
"Ah, they'll all be gathered in the third inpatient room."
"Why?"
"Visiting the patients."
At Lee Jun's words, Kwak Suho shook his head.
"Mysterious as ever, this Mongmong Animal Hospital."
That's right, Lee Jun answered inwardly, and smiled.
That was when it happened. A vibration buzzed loudly from Lee Jun's pocket.
He pulled out his phone, saw the caller, and immediately turned on his heel, answering as he walked.
"Yes, Manager Jang."
"Director, it's an emergency. The patient ate something they shouldn't have…"
"I'll be right there."
Lee Jun broke into a run, and Kwak Suho ran after him. It just felt like the thing to do.
Lee Jun was on the first floor in an instant.
"Director! Treatment room!"
"Got it."
Instead of asking what had happened or where it hurt, Lee Jun sprinted straight into the treatment room.
Yoo Mu-hwan and Go Gi-jin were there. Yoo Mu-hwan sat with his back to them at a microscope; Go Gi-jin stood at the treatment table. A Shih Tzu lay prone on the table.
A Shih Tzu Lee Jun knew. Gamja.
"What's going on with Gamja?"
"He vomited twice a little while ago. On the way here, they saw melena in the car."
Melena meant bloody stool—and it was a bad sign.
"We've got blood work running, and I'm confirming the melena under the microscope."
"Dr. Cha's standing by in radiology."
That was when it happened. Gamja, who had been lying limp on the table, pushed himself up. He arched his back like a bow and assumed the posture of vomiting.
Uegh… ueeaagh.
Gamja emptied his stomach onto the treatment table.
"Hematemesis…"
Yoo Mu-hwan and Go Gi-jin froze in alarm—and in that moment, Lee Jun swept his hand through the bloody vomit. Their eyes went wide. He wasn't even wearing gloves. He had gone through the vomit with his bare hands.
Whatever they thought of it, Lee Jun muttered,
"Please. Please. Please… damn it!"
The hope ended in disappointment. Because between his fingertips, he had caught the very thing he had desperately hoped not to find.
A small, long cylinder.
Lee Jun's face went hard in an instant. Damn it. Too late. He should have shot the video sooner.
But the regret lasted a fraction of a second. This was a moment when every second counted. Lee Jun raised his voice.
A poison incident—rare, but they happened in spring. Both of them knew. They had even done a case study on Lee Jun's orders not long ago. The answers came immediately.
"I'll prep the fluids."
"I'll go talk to the guardian."
Castor oil meal fertilizer—the kind of thing that could snatch a life if you weren't careful. They had to inform the guardian before proceeding with treatment.
Go Gi-jin turned to leave the treatment room—and Jang Sora, who had been watching the unfolding emergency, spoke up.
"I'll confirm with the guardian."
"Okay. Dr. Go—if there's blood left, run an SDMA test immediately."
Creatinine was an old and accurate test for kidney disease. The problem was that the number only flagged a diagnosis once the kidneys were more than seventy-five percent destroyed. To fill that gap, an early-detection method called SDMA had been developed—it could catch damage when only twenty-five to forty percent of kidney function was lost.
"Director, fluids are ready."
"Give them here. And Dr. Yoo, please prepare the apomorphine. After that, get the gastric lavage ready just in case. Looking at this, it hasn't been long since he ate it."
Lee Jun pointed at the castor oil meal fertilizer he had fished from the vomit.
"Understood."
It was a tense situation, but with Lee Jun holding the center, the atmosphere settled quickly. Lee Jun placed an IV line in Gamja's foreleg; Go Gi-jin ran the tests. Yoo Mu-hwan carried out Lee Jun's orders.
While everyone performed their roles without a hitch, Jang Sora approached at a quick walk.
"The guardian's friend lives in Gapyeong, and they took Gamja out there for a visit. Gamja was running around in a field, and they said he might have picked something up and eaten it then. If that's when he ate it, it's been about an hour or two."
Not as fast as they might have hoped—but not too late, either.
"We can work with this."
Lee Jun nodded and turned to Yoo Mu-hwan.
"Dr. Yoo. Let's start with the apomorphine."
"Understood."
A short while after the emetic went in, Gamja emptied his stomach.
Uegh. Ueeeaaagh!
Castor oil meal fertilizer mixed through the vomit. It kept coming—however much he had eaten, it wouldn't stop.
But Lee Jun couldn't be satisfied with this. If we get this wrong, he could be gone in an instant. He knew exactly how dangerous castor oil meal fertilizer was. So he intended to scrape every last bit of it out.
"Manager Jang… no, never mind."
Lee Jun had started to call Jang Sora, then stopped and turned to Yoo Mu-hwan.
"Dr. Yoo. Please get the gastric lavage ready. I'll go speak with the guardian."
Lee Jun stepped out of the treatment room, and Gamja's guardians, who had been pacing the hallway, came toward him.
"Director, is our Gamja okay?"
"He's okay, right? Director?"
The son asked, supporting his parent. Both of their voices were packed with a single will: Gamja had to live. They had to save him.
But Lee Jun couldn't answer lightly. This wasn't something else. This was poison. He told the guardians the truth, without softening a word of it.
"An eighty-five percent m-mortality rate… th-then what happens to our Gamja?"
"No…"
"N-no. D-Director, please save our Gamja."
"D-Director."
In this moment, the guardians believed in only one person. The veterinarian standing in front of them. Lee Jun, and no one else.
Four hands clutched his collar, trembling without mercy.
There was only one thing Lee Jun could say to guardians like these.
"We are doing everything we can. And we will keep doing everything we can. So I need you to do everything you can for Gamja, too."
"Yes, yes. Anything. If it can save our Gamja, do anything."
Lee Jun explained the treatments they would perform on Gamja. Then he went back into the treatment room.
No matter what it took, he would save Gamja.
As he stepped through the door, his clenched fists tightened with a surge of force.