Still on Duty
The next day, Lee Jun arrived at Namgoong Animal Medical Center at eleven in the morning.
When he appeared in the director's office, Han Na-hyeok greeted him.
"You're here early."
There was no surprise on his face—just a calm, matter-of-fact look. This was how it always went.
"I had to come early if I wanted to hear that patient's story you mentioned yesterday and look over the chart."
"What about Mongmong?"
Meaning: had he finished everything he needed to do at Mongmong Animal Hospital first?
"I held the morning meeting and finished rounds before I came."
"Already?"
Lee Jun answered with a smile, and Han Na-hyeok smiled back as he went on.
"Thank you. I say this every time, but the way you give every patient your full heart no matter where you are—it's really something."
"Wherever they are, sick animals all want the same thing. They just don't want to hurt anymore."
"Well, that's true. Stupid question, obvious answer. Anyway—we've definitely been seeing fewer foreign-body emergencies lately. Other hospitals are saying the same thing. That video with the little cuties? I think it's actually working."
"That's what people have been telling me, too."
Veterinarians he was close with had been calling him to say the same thing, delighted. Lee Jun smiled brightly at the memory of those conversations. It was wonderful news. The news he'd been hoping for.
"Those little ones really are popular, huh? Every spring there are articles about how dangerous castor oil meal fertilizer is, but nobody ever paid attention. Now a lot of people actually know. There are way more articles than before, too—and if you think about it, that's all thanks to those cuties, isn't it?"
In short, he was saying the drop in foreign-body accidents was thanks to Hoesaegi, Kkamnyangi, and Sapsaree. And that was the truth.
More precisely, it's because the animals listened to our kids and started being careful.
As Lee Jun was thinking that, Han Na-hyeok added,
"I get the feeling the dogs actually understood what Hoesaegi, Kkamnyangi, and Sapsaree were saying."
"That could be."
Lee Jun answered with a gentle smile—and told the truth.
"No, no, I'm not kidding. You should see how the dogs sit in a row and stare at that video. Ears pricked, totally locked in. There's got to be something they pick up on that we don't. There's no other way the accidents would just drop off like this."
"Our kids would be thrilled if they heard you say that."
Lee Jun smiled, thinking of Hoesaegi and Kkamnyangi, both so sensitive about their popularity.
"Anyway, you're something else."
"Our kids? Yeah, they are pretty amazing."
"No. You."
"Me?"
"Yeah. How on earth did you train them to act like that? Don't tell me Hollywood's been calling."
"The management company we worked with when the kids shot a commercial in LA did get in touch, actually."
"I knew it. Where else are you going to find animals that talented? They'd do anything you asked. We're going to be watching those kids in a movie theater before long, aren't we?"
Han Na-hyeok said it with a laugh. Lee Jun answered with a laugh of his own, then moved on.
"The patient you mentioned on the phone yesterday—what's the story?"
"This one."
Han Na-hyeok pulled up the chart on the monitor and continued.
"Nine-year-old Belgian Malinois, male, name's Benji. He came in because he licks and chews his paws obsessively every time he comes back from a walk."
"DJD, I'm guessing?"
Lee Jun asked whether Benji was suffering from DJD—degenerative joint disease, or osteoarthritis. If he had degenerative arthritis, his legs would hurt after a walk, and he'd lick or chew the painful spots to cope.
"That's right. Arthritis. There's another concern, too, but let's look at this first."
Han Na-hyeok brought up the X-rays and pointed to the arthritic sites. Lee Jun studied the images.
"I'm seeing inflammatory findings here and here."
The spots Lee Jun indicated were the head of the right humerus and the left knee. Still focused on the images, he went on.
"The bone itself looks fine, but the cartilage is badly worn—this is from heavy use. Did he work? You said Malinois, so... police dog?"
"That's right. He's been retired about six months."
"And the owner? Did his handler take him in?"
"No. A different officer."
"So he retired because he couldn't keep up physically? Was it the DJD that ended his career?"
"Hard to say for sure, but I'd guess so. His current owner came in because he's worried about the paw-licking."
"If he'd been in pain all along and nobody noticed, that might mean Benji has an unusually high pain tolerance."
"Could be."
"I've seen police dog training on TV—it looks brutal. And the work itself is incredibly demanding. Lasting on active duty until eight is impressive. He must have been built tough to begin with."
"His skeletal structure is excellent."
A strong frame and a high pain threshold—that probably meant a dog with a powerful sense of duty, too. Lee Jun filed the information on Benji away and considered why Han Na-hyeok had called him in.
Namgoong Animal Medical Center's facilities were among the best in the country, staffed with veterinarians of formidable skill. It's not even a surgical case. So why call me...?
It was possible Benji wasn't cooperating with rehab, and that's why he'd been asked to help.
"Should I check whether Benji is depressed?"
"It's more that... he was a search dog, and apparently he's still completely absorbed in sniffing things out and finding objects."
"Ah. So he never actually rests."
Just as Lee Jun had suspected, Benji seemed to be a dog with a powerful sense of responsibility. And this, he thought, was probably what the guardian was worried about.
"So with joints like that, he really needs to use them less—but he overuses them, so treatment isn't taking hold. Listening to the owner, Benji just wants to work all the time. At home, and every time they walk outside, he's sniffing..."
"That's going to put a lot of strain on the joints."
Every time he dropped his head to follow a scent, it would load the joints in both his front and hind legs.
"Exactly."
"If he keeps tracking scents even though he's in pain... maybe Benji doesn't know he's retired?"
"That is work, right? I did kind of float that idea to the owner."
"It's possible. There's a dog like that in the therapy-dog group Sapsaree goes to. A retriever named Heemangi—he was the same way."
"A retriever? So he was a guide dog?"
"Yes. After Heemangi retired, he kept trying to work in his new home the same way he had for his previous owner. And that's no small job. You have to stay focused constantly, and the stress adds up..."
"Yeah. Guide dog work looks exhausting. You have to concentrate on everything."
"That's what they said. So his new guardian figured Heemangi had worked so hard for his previous owner for so long that he deserved to rest easy now. When that didn't work out, they thought maybe giving him a slightly easier job would help—so they volunteered him as a therapy dog."
"That's a good idea. So is Heemangi doing better?"
"He is. These days he lives a good life, getting spoiled by grandmothers and grandfathers."
Through his conversations with Lee Jun, Heemangi had come to understand his situation, and now he was living at ease.
"I hope this one turns out the same. Oh—and the owner is worried Benji might have dementia."
"Dementia? Not the working, but dementia? He's not at an age where you'd typically worry about that. Has Benji ever had a head injury?"
"I haven't heard anything like that. But the owner is bothered by the way he keeps wandering around sniffing. He goes to the same places over and over, so I guess that's what's worrying them."
"Is he circling?"
Circling is a symptom of canine cognitive dysfunction—dementia—in which a dog spins in place or walks in wide, aimless loops for no reason.
"If it is circling, the loops are pretty wide. Sounds more like he goes to a specific spot, sniffs his way along, then returns to the original point and does the same thing all over again."
"From what you're describing, it doesn't sound like aimless walking. It sounds like he has a purpose."
"That's what I thought. He seems sharp to me. But when I listen to the owner, it gets a little confusing."
"Understood. I think it would be better to observe Benji's condition first before meeting the guardian, so I'd like to watch him walk a loop of the path."
"Ah, so you want to see how he is before you go into the consult?"
"Yes. I think the conversation will go better once I've seen him for myself."
"All right. I'll set it up that way."
Lee Jun left the director's office and walked toward the path, thinking, Please let this be a Heemangi-type case. He hoped Benji wasn't suffering from a brain disease like meningitis or a tumor—that he was simply unable to accept that he had retired.
Namgoong Animal Medical Center had two walking paths. The wide path on the first floor was the one visiting guardians and their dogs used most, with benches where people and dogs could rest. Which also meant a great many dogs and people used it.
The moment Benji stepped out of the car, his ears pricked. His eyes shone bright as he lifted his head to look at the person standing beside him.
Please give the command.
Benji waited, expectant. Soon an object carrying a new scent would be brought to his nose. He would memorize that scent, then go find the same one. It was hard work, but it was fun. And the reward that came with completing that hard work was equally great.
Is today's game finding an object's scent? Or the scent-memory game?
Either one was a fun game.
Thump-thump-thump.
Heart pounding with anticipation, Benji walked toward the animal hospital, looking forward to the fun that was about to begin.
They entered the medical center, and a voice came from in front of the walking path.
"Benji, shall we walk a loop around here?"
A moment later, his leash was unclipped.
In that instant, Benji's eyes lit up.
It's the scent-memory game!
Benji looked up at the person beside him, then held his tail high and taut. It meant: memorize the scents in this area and find them.
Understood! I will remember them all.
Benji planted his nose on the spot where the command had been given and sniffed, committing the scents to memory. Not one. Several. First, he memorized the strongest.
"Sniff—it leads that way."
There was no hesitation in Benji's stride. Step by step, advancing with certainty, his head stayed pointed at the ground. As he tracked with his head down, strain ran through his front legs—and his hind legs, too.
Sniff, sniff, sniff.
Benji walked diligently along the trail of scent.
Thud. Thud. Thuuud... thud.
As he walked, his legs began to hurt. But he couldn't afford to care about that. For Benji, the most important thing was carrying out the command. He shook out his legs and pressed on.
And at last, he found the strong scent. Benji called out loudly.
"Found it! I have found it!"
Benji looked at the target, then turned back to the one who had given the command and called out again. The target he had found was the dog who had entered the walking path just before him: a dachshund.
The startled dachshund jumped and scrambled backward.
"Hah—hah—c-calm down. Hooo. I only... followed the scent you left... at the entrance."
"So why were you following me?"
The dachshund yapped in protest, but Benji only kept repeating that he had found it.
"Found it. Found it."
Hah, hah, hah, hah. Benji's breathing grew ragged.
This was what searching was. The work of thinking hard while you hunted burned through stamina at a ferocious rate. Five or ten minutes of searching consumed far more energy than an hour or two of running around a field.
"What a weirdo."
The dachshund eyed the panting Benji, flicked his long ears, and waddled away on his short legs.
Once Benji had caught his breath, he walked back to the entrance. Then the hand of the one who had given the command came to rest on his back.
"Benji. You okay?"
The corner of Benji's mouth lifted, just slightly.
"Heh. I got praised."
Benji looked up at the person stroking his back, grinned, and went back to carrying out the command. He arrived at the entrance where the order had been given, posture proud, and planted his nose to the floor. Then he set off after the second-strongest scent. He performed the task exactly as he had a moment before.
Still riding the high of completing the previous mission, Benji didn't even notice that his legs hurt. He found the second scent's target quickly, too.
"Found it. Found it again!"
Just as Benji called out that he had found the target, a kind voice slipped into his ears.
"Benji's doing a really good job."
A voice that sank strangely, clearly, right into his ears.
"Heehee. Yes, I do my work well."
"Do your legs hurt?"
"My legs?"
Benji tilted his head, thinking. Do my legs hurt... wait. More importantly, I've heard this voice somewhere before...
Benji's sense of smell was outstanding, but so was his hearing. And as a dog who had spent his life thinking, turning problems over in his mind, he recalled in an instant where and when he had heard this voice.
Benji had watched the video Don't Eat This, You'll Die with deep, lasting impression. He lifted his head and met Meongmeong Teacher's eyes.