Chapter 22. What Is the Puppy’s Name?

“Did I sleep about six hours? That should be enough.”

I sprang up from the camp cot the way I used to wake up at BUD/S.

_{(Translator’s Note: BUD/S — Short for Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL, the U.S. Navy SEAL training course. It is conducted by Naval Special Warfare and is known for extreme physical and mental demands.)}

Ever since I started restoring the Corvette with Donnelly, this had become part of my normal routine.

Outside, it was still wrapped in a pitch-dark curtain, without even the faintest trace of blue in the sky.

Tap, tap—

I flipped over the leather boots by the bed once and shook them out before putting my feet into them.

For locals living ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on the outskirts of Arizona, it was practically a habit—checking whether a scorpion or tarantula had crawled into their shoes overnight.

I wrapped the blanket roughly around myself and quickly set water to boil in the electric kettle.
I had already poured instant coffee mix into a mug.

It was the kind of yellow instant mix coffee commonly drunk in Korea, and these days you could even buy it on Amazon.

When making it iced, they said to use two packets.

That was something I had learned from a Korean YouTuber.

After that, you poured in less than the usual amount of boiling water, dissolved the mix thoroughly, then filled the cup with ice and stirred quickly. Instant iced mix coffee, done.

Slurp—

“Mmm, right. Coffee should at least taste like this.”

I could feel the nutty, sweet coffee spreading softly through my whole body.

Compared to American drip coffee, which tasted like it existed somewhere between poison and sewer water, this was on a completely different level.

“Come on, now it’s your turn to wake up.”

I picked up the puppy, who had stayed sprawled out without a care despite nearly twenty minutes of rustling around beside him. His belly was nice and warm.

He seemed still half asleep, cracking his eyes open through his messy fur. His gaze looked utterly bewildered, as if asking what on earth was going on at this hour of the night.

“Don’t look at me like that. You can just go back to sleep once we get there.”

Pretending to ignore his stare, I quickly climbed into the truck.

The truck’s yellow headlights lit up the empty road.
Aside from the occasional freight truck coming from the opposite direction, there was no one on the road.
Only the tall saguaro cacti whipping past at the roadside.
At night, they looked eerily like people standing there with both arms stretched out, but there was something strangely appealing about the mood of a pre-dawn drive too.

Clack, rrrrr—

When I arrived at Donnelly Auto & Machine, I opened the door with the spare key he had given me in advance.

The metallic sound of the roll-up door echoed especially loudly.

Click—

After switching on the lights in the shop, I squinted until my eyes adjusted and set out the puppy’s cushion, water, and food.

“You know the rules now even if I don’t say them, right? If you want to sleep, stay on your cushion. If you want to play, only come this far.”

After making the leash as long as possible, I got straight to work.

Whiiiiiing—

Today’s task was removing the surface rust from the frame.

I was using a powered steel brush to scrape the surface down bit by bit, and because I had to do every corner of every joint carefully, it was the kind of job that quietly ate up a lot of time.

If I take care of this much, things should be a lot easier ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠later.

A thin layer of reddish rust dust settled across the floor. The sharp smell of iron lingered at the tip of my nose.

“Whew, removing rust really isn’t as easy as it sounds.”

From the frame rails to the crossmember to the suspension mounts.
At first, I had thought it would be simple—just run the power brush over it a few times and be done—but even after working nonstop for five solid hours, I had only just gotten a little past halfway.

Still, aside from putting some strain on my wrists and elbows, it was not particularly intense labor.

There was even something oddly therapeutic about mindlessly repeating such a simple task.

Strangely enough, it really does relieve stress.

Especially when the reddish patches turned into clean, gleaming silver, it brought a real sense of accomplishment too.

Before I knew it, the morning sun was peeking up over the vast horizon.
At the same time, with the sunrise behind him, Donnelly appeared at the entrance to the shop.

“Jason, good morning. You’re diligent as ever today.”

Looking over at me crouched inside and working, Donnelly greeted me warmly.

“Good morning, Donnelly. I didn’t have anything else to do, so I came out a little early.”

“Heh heh, I don’t think this counts as just a little early. All right then, let’s do a good day’s work together again.”

Donnelly rolled up both sleeves and jumped in with enthusiasm.

Whiiiiiiiing—

Once we got to work, conversation naturally disappeared, and the shop filled only with the sound of the power brushes spinning.

With the two of us working together, the time required dropped dramatically, and we finished the rest of it all in two hours.

The frame, stripped of its crusted rust and laid bare, scattered brilliant silver light all over the shop.

“Whew, seeing it like this, it’s really beautiful.”

“Is it now? That steel structure? Heh heh, you’ve really fallen hard for cars too, haven’t you?”

Now that he said it, he was right. And yet, strangely enough, that smooth, shining silver frame really did look beautiful to me.

Restoring the Corvette took a tremendous amount of time and effort, but I was learning just as much in return.

More than anything, this was the first time I had really felt just how different restoration and repair work were.

If repair work was simply about making a car drivable, then restoration was exactly what the word implied—bringing it back as close as possible to factory-delivered condition.

Fortunately, the Corvette had a special document called the AIM, or Assembly Instruction Manual, the original record of how the factory had put the car together.

Among serious restorers, the AIM was treated almost like a bible, and even copied versions were sold online for high prices.

Through my awakened ability, I could perfectly absorb not only service manuals but also the AIM.

Still—

Why on earth did they route this wiring through a hole like this? I seriously cannot understand it...

Whenever I followed the AIM during assembly, there were far too many parts that looked wildly inefficient from a modern point of view.

But ironically, reproducing even those irrational details exactly was what drove true collectors into a frenzy.

“Are you going to match even the bolt colors again this time?”

“Yes, of course. Here, look. I bought them ahead of time. The upper section has to use only bolts with gray heads. And don’t pull the harness too tight either—leave it loose and clip it in place so it feels like factory assembly.”

“Heh heh... You really are stubborn to the bitter end, aren’t you?”

Donnelly clicked his tongue, clearly still not used to working that way, but when it came time to actually do the job, he still followed my lead exactly.

“Then I’ll head out a little early today.”

“Right, so today’s finally the day, is it? Take care of what you need to do, and I’ll see you tomorrow. You’ve got it good, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠don’t you, little guy?”

Donnelly roughly rubbed the puppy by the scruff of the neck.
The little guy did not reject the touch either.

On the way out of Donnelly Auto & Machine, the expression on the puppy’s face in the passenger seat looked especially bright.

I figured it was because I was getting off work early today...

Pant, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pant—

With his mouth slightly open and his little pink tongue hanging out, he even looked pretty cute.

“Time really flies.”

Before I knew it, it had already been a week since I became his foster.
And during the holding period, not a single person had come forward claiming to be his owner.

Now, in accordance with administrative procedure, I had to choose one of two options: send him to a shelter, or register myself as his official guardian.

“Let’s go. Time to make it official.”

There was no hesitation.
That decision had already been made the moment I saved him on the first day.

“Hehe, I see you didn’t have a change of heart after all.”

Karen, wearing a white coat at the animal hospital, sounded genuinely pleased.

“Yeah, well...”

“Then I’ll go ahead and start the found dog, stray hold completed procedure. Please confirm your name and address.”

After checking the driver’s license I handed over, Karen printed out a sheet of paper and passed it to me.

{Transfer of Ownership / Adoption Agreement}
{Ownership Transfer and Adoption Agreement}

I hereby agree that ownership of the animal shall be transferred to me... responsibility for any illness or behavioral issues that may arise in the future...

The wording was dry and matter-of-fact.

If I sign this, does that mean I’m with him to the end now?

Curled up tightly in my arms, the little guy let out a quiet breath.
He was so quick on the uptake that he had started disliking the hospital from the very entrance, even though he had only come here once before.

It’s okay. There’s nothing to worry about.

I stroked his back once, then picked up the pen and drew a black line across the paper.

Scratch, scratch—

—Jason Kwon—
— Jason Kwon —

Maybe he found the sound of the pen scratching across the paper strange, because his ears twitched upright.

“So is that it now?”

“Hm? Pfft. No. Poor thing, this is only the beginning.”

Karen’s lips curved up at my question.

“All right, hand him over.”

Then she snatched the puppy out of my arms like an eagle snatching prey.
His eyes turned plaintively toward me, but—

Sorry. In here, she’s the king.

There was nothing I could do for him.

After that, the mandatory checkup began. They checked his weight, temperature, heart rate, gum color, and even examined his ears, joints, and lung sounds.

Tremble, tremble, tremble—

He shook the entire time on the exam table.

No wonder he hates coming here.

There was no way it could feel pleasant to have a stranger’s big hands poking and prodding all over your body when you had no idea what was going on.

“Okay, no abnormal sounds, and everything looks clean.”

Karen cheerfully declared as she removed the stethoscope.

“Today he only needs his rabies shot and the first round of DHPPL. I’ll give you the monthly heartworm medication separately.”

_{(Translator’s Note: DHPPL — A common multivalent canine vaccine abbreviation. In veterinary use, it generally refers to protection against distemper, hepatitis/adenovirus, parainfluenza, parvovirus, and leptospirosis, though exact labeling can vary by clinic and manufacturer.)}

And finally, the moment the puppy feared most arrived: injection time.

“It’s okay. Here, I’ll be done in a second.”

Karen lightly pinched up the skin along the puppy’s back and slipped in a thin needle.

Slide—

“Yip!”

“Almost done.”

Then, just like that, another one.

Slide—

“Yip!”

There was a little yelping and squirming once or twice, but the shots were over almost before I knew it.

A pro really is a pro.

Karen’s movements when giving the injections were so precise and disciplined that they almost reminded me of an honor guard tossing and spinning rifles in perfect sequence.

“What about the chip? If you want, I can put it in right now.”

Karen was referring to the registration microchip for dogs.
It was a device that could confirm his identity if he was ever found without his guardian. Otherwise, he might get dragged off to a shelter even if he actually had an owner.

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He was obedient, but given his prior history, there was no harm in being careful in advance.

A tiny chip was inserted between his shoulder blades, and when Karen held up the scanner, it gave a beep in response.

“From now on, it’ll also be recorded in the hospital records. Once you register Jason’s address and phone number in the chip registry, that’s it! Congratulations. You’re not his foster anymore—you’re his owner, no, his family now.”

Karen stroked the puppy with warm eyes.
But the little guy seemed to dislike her touch, twisting his body this way and that in a frantic effort to avoid her hand.

Family, huh.

Honestly, it did not feel real. I did not really understand why people called dogs family, and just because my information was now in his chip did not seem like it would change anything in any special way.

And yet, strangely enough, that one brief word from Karen kept echoing in my ears.

“Oh, right. Have you decided on this little one’s name?”

Looking a little disappointed as the puppy kept rejecting her touch, Karen asked the question.

“Hmm... I’m thinking of just calling him Dusty. He was absolutely covered in dust when I first found him.”

Naming him had been surprisingly agonizing for me.
I had been thinking about it ever since the first day I brought him home, even while working, and then all of a sudden the name Dusty had just popped into my head. As if someone had whispered it to me.

“Dusty... It suits him. Cute, too. Then, Dusty! Stay healthy and happy with Jason from now on!”

With a pleased smile, Karen rubbed both hands around his neck.

The adoption fee and registration cost came to 170 dollars.
The vaccination fees were 50 dollars.

To celebrate Dusty’s adoption, Karen also tossed in some premium dog treats for free.
Whether she did or not, Dusty still kept a little distance from her.

By the time we came back outside, the sun was already nearly set. My beloved Chevy truck sitting in the parking lot was washed in orange twilight.

Heh—

Maybe because he had finally left the hospital, Dusty looked much happier now. With his tongue sticking out, he looked as though he were trying to lick the sunset itself.

He trotted along at my side toward the truck. His feet kept moving forward, but his gaze stayed fixed on my face the whole time.

With those bright, sparkling eyes, he seemed to be asking, So where are we going now?

The answer was obvious.
As I opened the passenger-side door of the truck, I said,

“Let’s go home.”