The Military Working Dog (1)
"This one's perfect."
"Perfect how?"
"Agh! You scared me!"
I'd only been murmuring to myself as I looked over the solid, steady German Shepherd standing there, and the voice that came suddenly from behind made me jump.
"You're the one who scared me."
The voice belonged to Noona, of course. If anything she looked more startled than I was, staring at me with both eyes stretched perfectly round.
I scratched my head and gave her an awkward smile.
"So. What's so perfect?"
"Ah. Him."
"Uh…… a German Shepherd?"
"Yeah."
Noona looked at me, puzzlement written all over her face.
"You're getting a German Shepherd too?"
"Wouldn't he make a perfect bodyguard for you? A German Shepherd isn't just strong. They're famous for how loyal they are, too."
At that, a faintly thoughtful look crossed her face. Any other day she would have waved the whole bodyguard idea off without a second thought, but with the thief still fresh in mind, she clearly couldn't brush it aside so lightly.
"Is that even possible?"
"It is if it's me. You trust your oppa, don't you?"
"Oppa, please."
Noona let out a soft little snort, crawled into bed, and beckoned me over as if to say hurry up.
"Mind sleeping first? I'll look into it a little more and then come to bed."
"Yeah? All right. Just don't stay up too late."
"Yeah."
The moment her head sank into the pillow, a soft, even little snore started up.
I smiled at the sound and went straight to learning everything I could about German Shepherds. The breed was German by birth, and the general verdict was that they were exceptionally intelligent and fiercely loyal. I also found that they were the breed most favored as military working dogs, both in Korea and abroad.
"Whoa…… a military dog……."
One of those in the house, I thought, and a bodyguard would be more than covered.
While I was turning the idea over, a banner that looked like an advertisement caught my eye.
Don't buy a dog — adopt one!
ROK Army Dog Training Center
"……? The Army does pet adoptions?"
It really did seem to be an Army ad. The Army's insignia was right there on the banner.
Half spellbound, I clicked it, and the page sent me to the notices on the Army website.
"A guide to adopting retired military dogs?"
There it was, planted across the top of the page I'd landed on, bold as anything. The notice explained that dogs raised as military working dogs were being given to civilians free of charge.
A military dog…… that could be good.
It lined up almost perfectly with what I was after, so I went straight to the part about how to apply.
The process was simple. You filled in a few personal details on the form, wrote a statement of purpose explaining why you wanted to adopt, and included photos of the place where the dog would be kept. Last of all, you mailed the application to the dog training center. Sending something by post in the twenty-first century, when every kind of communication technology was running wild, felt a little strange — but it wasn't anything I couldn't live with.
"I'll apply right now."
I sat down at the computer and started on the form at once. Maybe because I'd just filled out a marriage registration, the personal-information section wrote itself without a single hitch.
Partway through those details, though, I had no choice but to stop. There was a field asking for the pets I was currently keeping.
I had nothing worth hiding, so I started filling it in at once.
"Dog, cat, owl, magpie, crow, rabbit, goose, raccoon, turtle…… that's everything, right?"
By the time I was done writing, I was nearly out of room in the box. I managed to cram it all in somehow, and then a different problem appeared. This time it was the statement of purpose — the part where I had to say why I wanted a military dog. I was hopeless at this sort of thing.
"Uh…… purpose of adoption? Guarding my wife…… I can't write that, can I."
I filled the statement in as decently as I could. It drifted a little from my real reason, but I didn't write something wholly unrelated either. I just put a bit of wrapping on it: the house sat where people rarely passed, and I wanted to protect the home and the people who lived in it. After that I sketched out a simple plan for how the dog would be used, and another for how it would be looked after.
"The housing-environment report for a retired dog? Piece of cake."
I decided to use photos I'd already taken any number of times. All I had to do was attach pictures of our yard and the café.
Even there, one snag turned up. I was also supposed to include a photo of the vehicle that would be used for transport. I meant to buy a car, but I hadn't properly settled on one yet, so there was no vehicle photo to put down. Which was why I decided, lightly enough, to take a selfie.
"I am a very comfortable way to travel. Mm."
As long as I was there, I could keep the stress of the trip to a minimum for the animals even if we went by oxcart. Warn them ahead of time about a sudden change of surroundings, and I could not only cut that stress down further but steady an animal that had gone tense or afraid. So it wasn't a lie.
I really did put my selfie in the space for a mode of transport, printed the application out exactly like that, and — already planning to mail it from the post office first thing in the morning — crawled into the bed where Noona was asleep.
After the night of the break-in, my days turned very busy.
It started with a trip to the police station to give a statement about what had happened when the thief got in. Thanks to Byeong-jin, that part went smoothly enough. But it was hardly the end of what I had to take care of.
I had to find a private security company, put the house and the café under their watch, and harden the security on the house even further. I'd already installed CCTV all through the inside for the MeTube-worthy things the animals might get up to when I wasn't home, or wasn't looking — but not outside. I needed cameras covering the exterior, and obstacles so that just anyone couldn't hop the wall.
And there was the marriage registration Noona and I had filled out together, witnesses and all, which still had to be filed at the county office before the law would recognize us as husband and wife.
"It's been received, and processing will take a few days. Once it's all finished, you'll get a notification."
Noona and I wrapped up the marriage registration at the county office.
It was only a filing, nothing more, but a strange feeling came over me. From here on, I was a married man in the eyes of the law as well. The moment you submitted it, a marriage registration couldn't be canceled unless there was some legal reason it was invalid. Noona and I were a legally married couple now, no take-backs.
"I'll make you happy from now on."
"……Me too."
Receipt in hand, we spent a while just looking at each other and smiling, neither of us saying a word.
"Aigo! What are you doing blocking the road!"
We held that look only until an old man told us to quit blocking the way and move. Then we broke into easy laughter and slipped straight out of the county office.
"Ah! Noona. While we're out, let's go look at a car."
"A car? Not the kind you drink — the kind you drive?"
"Yeah. I think it's about time we had one."
The bit about a transport vehicle on the military-dog application had been nagging at me. Even aside from that, if Noona or I — or one of the animals — got hurt out of nowhere, we'd need a way to move fast. When I made that case to her, Noona shrugged as if to say do whatever you like.
I flagged a taxi at once, and the two of us headed for the nearest dealership.
Maybe it was all that room in the bank account. I didn't spare a thought for the dealer's talk of service packages and whatever else; I loaded a full-size SUV with every option there was and signed.
"Sir! There's one unit of the vehicle you want that came back from a canceled contract — would it be all right if we allocated that one to you? Oh, don't worry! It isn't a refused delivery or anything of the sort. It's in the final stage of production! The original buyer canceled, so the car was left hanging!"
"Really? Then it'll be ready soon?"
"Yes! You'll have it within a week at the latest!"
"Then let's go with that."
No problems, and I could get it quickly. No reason to refuse. I gave the dealer a small nod, and right then the phone in my pocket started to ring.
"Don't know the number. Where's area code 033?"
"No idea. Just answer it."
I'd been wavering between picking up and letting it go. I answered ready to hang up the instant it turned out to be spam or a voice-phishing scam.
"Hello?"
"Hello, sir! This is Lieutenant Kim Deok-gu, in charge of retired-dog adoptions at the ROK Army Dog Training Center!"
"……Sorry? Where did you say?"
"The ROK Army Dog Training Center, sir!"
At the words dog training center, I remembered what I'd written the night of the break-in and mailed the next day. I took the contract the dealer held out and stepped straight outside.
"You're calling about the military dog adoption, right?"
"Yes, sir, that's correct!"
Had I put him on speaker? Why was his voice so loud. It wasn't really a problem, so I eased the phone a little away from my ear and kept going.
"Have the results come in?"
"Yes, sir, they have! The application you submitted has been approved!"
"Oh!"
I couldn't help the little burst at what Lieutenant Kim Deok-gu had said. I'd expected it to take longer, so hearing that the result was already in felt good.
"Sir. If it wouldn't be an imposition — would you be willing to promote our training center's civilian adoption program through your MeTube channel?"
The lieutenant's next words made me tilt my head. Being asked out of nowhere to advertise on my MeTube channel was bound to throw me.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Ah! Please don't misunderstand. This is absolutely not a requirement."
Perhaps thinking I'd taken it the wrong way, the lieutenant rushed to explain. The ROK Army Dog Training Center placed its retired dogs with civilians, along with the ones who couldn't keep up with training and never qualified, and right now there were enough of them to be a real headache. To ease that problem they wanted a little help — specifically, for me to upload something about military-dog adoption to my MeTube channel. They weren't asking me to promote them for nothing, either. In return, they would select the healthiest dog with the most impressive record and see that I was the one who adopted it.
Not bad.
I didn't care much about the rest of it, but being able to adopt a dog already screened as the best fit for what I wanted — that came as a real advantage.
"I'll do it."
"Thank you, sir!"
The lieutenant thanked me and said he'd extend a few more courtesies besides. Since I'd need to film, they'd accommodate that as well, and I could set the time of the adoption visit for whenever was convenient for me.
The catch was that collecting the dog meant going all the way to Chuncheon. Busan to Chuncheon was a long way, which meant clearing the entire day, from early morning until late at night.
I talked it over with Noona and decided we'd leave once the car we'd ordered arrived — the café and the animals, we'd leave in Yeongji's hands. She loved animals anyway, so leaving them with her for a day wouldn't be a problem.
And because the car was delivered sooner than we'd expected, Noona and I set out for Chuncheon earlier than we'd thought.