A Dog-Like Life
Lawyers, accountants, doctors, and so on.
In Korea, jobs ending in "sa"—the so-called "sa professions"—receive an unusual amount of favoritism.
"Hello, ma'am. It's been a while since I last saw Yeppi, hasn't it? What seems to be bothering our Yeppi today?"
"She's been refusing food all day and just whimpering. If only she could talk... Doctor, nothing serious is wrong with her, right?"
And my own profession as a veterinarian isn't so bad either.
Though it ranks among the "sa" elite, it's still respected enough in Korea.
"Let me take a look. Open wide, Yeppi. Good girl."
People still subtly rank veterinarians below the true elites: medical doctors, dentists, and oriental medicine practitioners.
Their perspective makes sense.
Their clients number 51 million, the entire population of South Korea.
Mine? Just 8.6 million pets— a mere 16% of the population.
But I like being a veterinarian.
"Yeppi has a lot of tartar buildup. I think it's time for a scaling."
Why did I choose this path?
Some grand sense of mission?
Love for animals?
"All done with the scaling, ma'am. I've prescribed some antibiotics and anti-inflammatories for Yeppi."
"Oh no, did something go wrong? Why does she need medicine?"
"Unlike human teeth, dogs accumulate a ton of tartar. The meds are just to manage pain and inflammation—no need to worry. For the next day or two, switch her to a liquid diet instead of her regular kibble."
No. It's simply easier.
Easier than dealing with humans.
Easier dealing with animals that can't speak.
"Thanks for all your hard work, Mi-so. I've got plans, so I'll head out first."
"Good night, Director. See you tomorrow."
It had been a while since I'd caught up with my old classmates.
I'd barely left the clinic and boarded the bus when my pants pocket buzzed violently.
"Hello?"
—Baek Min-hyeok, where are you right now?
—On my way. Just entering Mapo Bridge.
—Everyone's here except you, man. Hurry up.
—Hey, let me talk. Baek Min-hyeok! If you bail today, we're done! I barely carved out time for this!
Having just opened my clinic with a full loan, I was busier than ever.
But this was my first reunion in a year with guys I'd known since elementary school. No way I could skip it—especially after their childish threats to cut ties if I didn't show.
"I'm coming. Fifteen minutes tops."
—Listen to that voice—sounds half-dead. Should've followed your dad into medicine instead of vet school. Now you're drowning in debt.
—Dude, you think doctors have it easy? And why drag family into it? You know Min-hyeok hates that.
—I'm just saying, with your brains, your family, your money—why saddle yourself with debt just to play with mutts?
They must've already knocked back a few—bickering among themselves.
"Be there soon. Hanging up."
I cut off their whining and entered Mapo Bridge, but the cars ahead slammed on their hazards and ground to a halt.
"Heard there was some festival. Traffic's insane."
"Oh! That's it—the Dano Festival! Honeyyy~ Let's go too! They have a Haetae float this year—super cute. Right?"
"Hmm? We saw the rubber duck last year. What's the big deal?"
"Oppa, is a rubber duck the same as a Haetae? And the Haetae sculpture is only this year!"
"Yeah. Sure. We'll go. But festival or not, this backup is ridiculous. What, an accident?"
Mapo Bridge was all that stood between me and the meetup spot, but like the bickering couple ahead said, it looked like an accident.
No matter how much drivers honked, nothing budged. The bus driver stepped out the front door to check.
May had passed since the start of summer.
The sticky heat had eased after yesterday's rain, letting a cool breeze rush in through the open door.
'Weird. Turning Dano into a festival.'
These days, K-pop idols in hanbok on stage, mother-of-pearl interiors, media art with Joseon royal fabrics—efforts to make tradition hip were popping up everywhere. But a Dano Festival on the Han River?
'And what's a Haetae got to do with Dano? Any connection?'
Haetae—the mythical beast that discerns right from wrong. No real link to Dano, but both evoked traditional vibes, so maybe that's why they mashed them into a festival.
That's when it hit.
"Kyaang... kyaang..."
A cry from outside the bus yanked me from my seat on reflex.
"Stay back! Come any closer and I'll take us all out!"
Stepping out, I instantly grasped the chaos.
A middle-aged man, red-faced and staggering drunk, leaned precariously on the Mapo Bridge railing, bellowing at the top of his lungs.
A suicide jumper—straight out of the news, now right in front of me.
'Sapsali... no, a mix?'
But it wasn't him that caught my eye. It was the puppy whimpering in his grip by the scruff.
"Fuck! Didn't you hear me? One more step and this mutt and I go over! Got it!?"
"Kyaang! Kyang!"
No clue why.
The man menaced that he and the white-furred pup—breed impossible to tell—would plunge into the Han any second.
Someone quietly called the cops. Others whipped out phones to film. I pushed through the crowd.
Aim: snatch the pup when the moment was right.
"Thirty years... thirty fucking years busting my ass like a dog to feed my family. And they call me worse than a dog? Me!?"
"H-hey! Sir, calm down!"
A fed-up bystander edged closer, but the man thrust the pup further out over the railing, shaking it wildly like he'd hurl it into the river.
"Oh god, what do we do?!"
"Where are the cops?!"
A grating, nails-on-chalkboard screech.
The pup's panting gasps wrenched hearts. Onlookers stamped helplessly.
"I live on 100,000 won a month. Know how much this mutt costs? 50,000 for a trim! I get mine for 9,000—50k to groom a fucking dog? Makes sense?!"
Money troubles?
But what crime had the pup committed?
I approached slowly, arms raised high in a calming gesture.
"Know how I'm treated at home? Worse than this mutt. A dog’s life... Who the hell are you? Wanna watch me and this mutt die?"
"Please calm down, sir. I'm a veterinarian. If the pet expenses are a burden, our clinic offers free—"
Did my good intentions backfire?
Things escalated in a flash.
"This little shit... Who you calling trash?!"
Eyes rolling back, the man trembled, clutching the pup, screaming at me.
"You punk! Get over here. Everyone else stay put—you come!"
The "punk"? That was me.
Arms still up, I inched toward his wild gaze.
'Just talk him down. Please.'
One step, then another. I prayed to a god I didn't believe in. Don't let the palm-sized pup get hurt.
"Vet bills alone are 50k a month for this trash. You make money breeding shit like this, you thunderstruck bastard?"
I'm a vet, not a breeder.
And pets aren't toys to buy and sell.
Indignation surged, but I stayed cool, trying to soothe him.
"Sounds like your pup's not well. As I said, our clinic can handle it..."
"Kekekeke. 'Pet'? Fuck that."
His chilling laugh echoed as I crept closer to him and the whimpering pup.
'Can I grab it?'
The gap between us? Arm's reach now.
Maybe eye contact froze him, or his frenzy blinded him—he didn't notice.
Opportunity struck. I lunged for the pup.
His eyes gleamed coldly.
"Fine. If this mutt's so precious, risk your life for it."
"Sir, just calm—"
Too late?
Before I finished, he smirked and released his grip.
That arm extended over the railing.
The hand clutching the pup.
Plop—
Let me say it again: I'm a veterinarian.
I catch fleeing pups on exam tables.
Writhing cats.
Hedgehogs tumbling off edges.
Reflex or sheer desperation to save the pup—I snagged it mid-fall beyond the railing.
"Kyaaaaah!"
"Crazy bastard!"
But the crowd's screams weren't relief.
My body, pup in arms, plummeted from Mapo Bridge too.
'Damn occupational hazard.'
They say your life flashes before death like a montage.
Bullshit.
What I felt: blinding wind pressure, bone-chilling cold.
And...
"Kiiing... ng."
A dog's bark.
Splash!
Then a dull thud to the skull. Clutching the pup, my memory blacked out.
What a dog-like life.
A splitting headache throbbed like my skull was cracked.
Then a buzzing in my ears.
Hearing sharpening, mind clearing—I wasn't dead yet.
'...Fuck.'
That split-second before hitting the water.
I'd gone in headfirst.
Consciousness returned, but my body felt pinned by lead weights. Must've broken something bad in the fall.
—...Wake up!
Vision still blurry.
But as my mind sharpened, a voice pierced my ears.
—Come on, wake up! S-sob, please!
A child's voice, gender unclear, desperate.
Some kid I didn't know, pleading.
The mystery tot diligently wiped my face with a warm, wet cloth.
Wipe after wipe after wipe.
A bit excessive.
"Nngh..."
Body still heavy as lead, but the warmth eased my eyelids open—like waking from deep sleep.
Blurry sight cleared, revealing the "cloth" diligently tending me...
—Huh? Y-you're awake! Are you okay? I was so worried—you wouldn't come to!
Vanished.
What I'd mistaken for a cloth? A fluffy, soaked tongue from a furball licking me nonstop.
—Haa... Thought something awful happened. Thank goodness. I wanted to thank you for saving me... Huh? What's wrong? Wake up!
Hearing dog barks like human speech, I closed my eyes and sank into deep sleep.