If I Could Have Fed Him
The Companion Animal Behavior Clinic inside Jeil University Veterinary Hospital was a place dedicated to diagnosing and treating the behavioral problems of companion animals.
Inside the consultation room, the sound of rain began to fall.
Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter.
A fine drizzle, barely more than a whisper.
The dachshund sitting on its owner's lap pressed a little closer into her arms. Watching this, Yeo Un-hyeok turned the volume up.
A rushing hiss filled the room.
The dachshund flinched and burrowed deeper into its owner's embrace, trembling in fine, rapid shivers.
Yeo Un-hyeok lowered the rain. As the sound faded, the trembling eased, bit by bit. When the rain vanished completely, a shallow sigh slipped from the little dog's mouth. The tension had finally let go.
Yeo Un-hyeok watched the dachshund for a moment, then stood and drew back the curtains. Bright sunlight flooded the consultation room, and the dachshund lifted its head, peering out the window with a bewildered look. The trembling had already stopped completely.
Looking at the little dog, Yeo Un-hyeok spoke.
"How does that seem?"
"He definitely trembles a lot less when the curtains are drawn. I think I should keep them closed, like you said."
"That would be much more settling for Little One."
As he spoke, Yeo Un-hyeok set two small boxes on the examination table. The dachshund's shoulders gave a tiny shudder, as if startled.
"What's this?"
"Ah, this? It's called Adaptil Calm. It isn't a medication — it's a type of pheromone. When dogs catch this scent, they settle down. You could say it helps them find some peace of mind."
"A pheromone?"
The owner hugged the dachshund a little tighter as she asked again.
"It's modeled after a pheromone secreted from the sebaceous glands of a nursing mother dog. The research is based on how puppies feel comforted by the scent they knew from their mother."
"Ah — like puppies resting peacefully beside their mom?"
The Little One in her arms was a fearful dog. He was especially sensitive to sound — thunder, of course, but even the patter of rain terrified him. On rainy days he would invariably huddle in his owner's arms, trembling. If she wasn't home, he hid under the bed. If the bedroom door was closed, he went to the bathroom and curled up behind the toilet. And if even that wasn't possible, he found any corner in the house and hid.
Sometimes he even had accidents — both urine and feces.
Which meant that when it rained, it wasn't only Little One who suffered. His owner suffered right along with him. Whenever she was out, all she could think about was rushing home to the little dog trembling alone. At night she could barely sleep for having to soothe him.
"That's right."
Hope flickered in the owner's voice as she asked,
"Will he be all right if he wears this?"
"It's honestly fifty-fifty. Some dogs respond well, others don't. But I think it's worth trying at least once before we go to medication."
"It does seem better than medicine. Hah... I wasn't the one trembling while I held him. If I had been, maybe he would've been fine..."
The owner believed Little One's fear of rain was her own fault. She was convinced he had learned it by watching her flinch every time the rain came down.
"If we train him gradually, he'll improve."
"I really hope so."
"Let's hold on to that hope."
Encouraging her, Yeo Un-hyeok went on.
"Medication is quite effective, yes. But since you'd prefer not to give Little One drugs if you can help it, I thought we might start with this. Let's watch how he does for about a month."
"...Yes. I'll try this first."
"This one goes around the neck like a collar, and this is a diffuser — you plug it into an electrical outlet."
After explaining how to use the Adaptil Calm, Yeo Un-hyeok saw the owner out.
"I'll see you in a month, then."
Yeo Un-hyeok began his next appointment. A five-year-old Maltese who had started barking incessantly whenever left alone after the family moved to a new house. They had even brought a trainer in, but it hadn't stopped the barking. Once, circumstances had forced them to leave for about an hour, and they came back to find Yuwol rigid from head to tail. Worried there might be something wrong with her brain or heart, they had come to the university hospital on their regular clinic's recommendation for a full workup.
"How is Yuwol doing?"
"She's a little better. She seems okay now even if no one's home — for an hour or two, at least."
Before the medication, Yuwol had started barking the instant her owner opened the door to leave. This was a considerable improvement.
"Any other symptoms? Has she gone rigid again, anything like that?"
"No. Nothing like that. She's eating well and playing well."
The owner answered while stroking the Maltese.
"Good. Yuwol's bloodwork all came back normal. I think we can increase the dose. This time we'll go with the full amount and see how many hours she can last on it."
"Okay."
"Let's keep her on the medication and see you again in two weeks. If anything comes up before then, please call me."
"Yes. Thank you."
The next case was much the same. Yeo Un-hyeok kept writing prescriptions.
If I could just explain the situation to them, so many of these kids wouldn't need medication at all...
If I could just tell Little One the dachshund that rain isn't something to be afraid of. If Yuwol the Maltese could just understand that nothing's changed except the house they moved to — that would be the end of it.
Yeo Un-hyeok let out a long sigh.
Yeo Un-hyeok had once had a poodle he had lived with like a brother. The brown poodle, Bori, who had been with him since he was eight years old, loved Yeo Un-hyeok's father most of all. Loved him so much that whenever his father left on a business trip, Bori would refuse food entirely. He literally would not eat.
Bori would crouch by the front door and wait until Yeo Un-hyeok's father came home. If the trip lasted a couple of days, it ended with Bori throwing up yellow bile a few times. But if the trip ran long, it was chaos. He would starve himself so thoroughly they had to rush him to the animal hospital for IV fluids.
And yet the family couldn't even hospitalize him. Yeo Un-hyeok's mother would take Bori to the clinic, hold him in her arms the entire time he was on the IV, and bring him straight home. If they tried to admit him, Bori would claw at the kennel glass and bark so frantically they simply couldn't leave him there.
And yet the moment his father came home from a trip, Bori would eat as if nothing had happened and go right back to normal. They went through the exact same ordeal every single time his father left.
Bori had gone to the Dog Star the summer Yeo Un-hyeok turned eighteen. Ten years together, exactly. Yeo Un-hyeok had been devastated.
He had even resented his father, wondering if Bori had died young from all that starving and suffering during those business trips. Then, gradually, another thought took hold. What if he had been able to get Bori to eat? Would Bori still be by his side?
That thought followed him even after he entered veterinary school.
Then he sat through a lecture on veterinary behavioral medicine, and it stunned him. Bori's behavior had been separation anxiety. It wasn't something to merely pity and worry over — it had been something that needed treatment. And he had regretted it.
I'm so sorry, Bori. I didn't do nearly enough for you.
He had only ever wondered why Bori wouldn't listen, why he wouldn't eat. It had never occurred to him that it was an illness that needed to be treated.
After that revelation, Yeo Un-hyeok had thrown himself into studying animal behavior therapy. It had eventually brought him all the way to graduate school. And now that he was treating animals himself, he found himself wrestling with the same dilemma all over again.
I hope the Adaptil Calm works well for Little One. Otherwise we'll have to move on to alprazolam.
Alprazolam was a benzodiazepine anxiolytic, effective for depression and anxiety disorders. It was also used for its anticonvulsant and muscle-relaxant properties.
Yuwol, too. That's a shame.
She hadn't always barked. It had started after the move, which meant there was clearly a reason. If he could just figure that out, he could fix it.
Whenever he saw kids who had to stay on medication like this, contradictory thoughts tangled in his mind. The drugs kept them from getting overstimulated, which was probably better for their hearts — but staying on anxiolytics indefinitely wasn't exactly good either.
His head a snarl of worries, Yeo Un-hyeok found he had no appetite even though it was lunchtime. So he grabbed a cup of coffee and headed down to the first floor. There, he ran into Eom Jin-han.
"Hey, Un-hyeok. You eat yet?"
"No. I don't have much of an appetite..."
"Tsk tsk. That's no good. People like us run on a full stomach — skip a meal and you'll collapse. Want me to grab you something?"
"I'm all right. I'll eat later."
Yeo Un-hyeok answered and walked out through the hospital's back door.
Stepping out the back door of the veterinary hospital, you came upon a space with treated-wood tables and chairs that could seat about ten people, along with a few benches. A retractable awning overhead kept out rain, snow, and even UV rays. The students called it Dongbyung Cafe, and it served as their unofficial hangout.
Dongbyung Cafe hadn't always been such a handsome space. Back when Lee Jun was an undergrad, there had been nothing — no roof, no anything. Just two lonely benches. Alumni donations had given it the look it had now. But whether it had been two bare benches or this stylish outdoor cafe, the place served the same purpose: a refuge for students worn down by studying and clinical work. Given its location behind the hospital, it was used mainly by graduate students in the clinical tracks.
When Yeo Un-hyeok arrived at Dongbyung Cafe, about seven people in white coats were in the middle of a lively conversation. They nodded or waved at him and kept talking. Yeo Un-hyeok returned the greetings, found a seat among them, and sipped his coffee.
"You guys gonna apply?"
The moment he overheard that, Yeo Un-hyeok knew exactly what they were talking about.
The Meongmeong Animal Hospital hiring notice.
As he thought this, one of his classmates in a white coat spoke up.
"Apply? What's the point? I heard Senior Jang from Surgery and Senior Kim from Internal Medicine are putting in applications."
"Yeah? Then there's no use applying."
The classmate who had asked about applications answered in a disappointed voice. Another chimed in.
"I'm still gonna try."
"Me too. It said all you need is a veterinary license and a love for animals, right?"
"Dude, every place says that."
"I don't care — I'm applying. Honestly, where else is there a place like the emergency medicine department? Our specialty is essential. And if I just get through the document screening... hehehe, that means I get to go to Meongmeong for an interview, right?"
One of them picked up on the classmate who was grinning as he talked.
"Ahh, I see how it is. You're applying just so you can meet Hoesaegi, Gkamnyangi, and Sapsaree, aren't you?"
"Busted? I'm gonna write on my application that if I don't get in this year, I'll apply again next year. And Meongmeong's only going to get bigger next year, right? Then our department will be a hundred percent necessary!"
"Okay, you've got a point. Emergency surgery is pretty popular among the twenty-four-hour hospitals these days."
"Exactly! Anyway, I'm getting in no matter what. This year I'll just get my face known, and then next year. And if they still don't take me next year, I'll ask them to take me as an intern. Who knows? Maybe I'll get a special hire after interning. Hehehe."
"Man, your scheming is next-level."
"Whatever. I'm going to Meongmeong, period. Hehe — a chance to work alongside our Suneunim, the Vet God himself."
"I'm with you on that. Before long, even applying to Meongmeong is going to be tough."
A senior who had been listening from the side joined in.
"So you think the same way I do, Senior?"
"Yeah. The rumors about Meongmeong are no joke. It's going to be a major hospital before long. A chance to be a founding member at a hospital with that kind of vision? You have to grab it."
The senior clenched his fist, steeling his resolve.
"Exactly. I'd be happy even as an intern. If that doesn't work, I'll ask them to let me mop the floors. I just want to learn how Senior Lee handles animals."
"I want to learn that too. How does he get the dogs to stay so quiet?"
"I want to learn that whether I end up working under Senior Lee Jun or not. Man, a veterinary hospital where nobody barks — how great would that be? The cats wouldn't be stressed either."
"True. Maybe I should ask them to take me as an intern too?"
"Yeah, I should do that. Watch Suneunim up close, see those little cuties every day. That's paradise, isn't it?"
"That's true. Anyway — Un-hyeok, even from a behavioral medicine standpoint, isn't Senior Lee Jun incredible?"
Every gaze swung toward Yeo Un-hyeok at once. He took it awkwardly and answered.
"He really is. Honestly, I want to go ask him. How he reads the signs the animals give him so well."
"Then go ask him."
The answer came from someone walking toward them.
"Senior Eom."
"Here. Eat up."
The plastic bag in his hands glittered silver, packed full.
"You bought kimbap?"
"Yeah, I suddenly had a craving. Come on, you guys eat too."
It wasn't that he'd been craving kimbap. He'd been worried Yeo Un-hyeok would skip the meal, so he'd stopped by the snack shop on the way. That was Eom Jin-han's charm. He seemed oblivious, and yet he always looked after his juniors.
"Thank you for the food."
"Yes! Jackpot! Thank you for the food."
"That's right, eat plenty. That way I can work you all that much harder."
Even if you weren't in surgery, there was no end of work at a veterinary hospital that needed extra hands from the juniors. Eom Jin-han had a habit of generously feeding them whenever he got the chance — and then putting those well-fed hands to work. That, too, was a skill he had learned from Lee Jun.
"Yes, Senior!"
"Anytime."
Eom Jin-han accepted their greetings, sat down beside Yeo Un-hyeok, and unwrapped a roll of kimbap.
"So. What's eating you?"
"Worries, well... you know."
"What kind of worries? Don't tell me you're sitting here going, 'I picked the wrong specialty. I should've gone into surgery.'"
"What?"
"Come on. The more you know, the more you realize there's no department like ours. Damn right."
Watching Eom Jin-han put on that arrogant look, Yeo Un-hyeok smiled faintly.
"That's not it. Our department is plenty incredible. Don't you know stress is the root of all illness? Even in human medicine, psychiatry is hugely popular these days."
"Well, fair enough. So what's the problem, then?"
"It's just... why does treatment have to be nothing but drugs? Behavior modification is so hard."
Suddenly Eom Jin-han stared straight at him. Yeo Un-hyeok leaned back and asked,
"Wh-what?"