[HanCinema's Korea Diaries] The Reward of Adopting Abroad...

The bitch was sprinting now, faster than I had ever seen her run. I called her name repeatedly but she openly ignored the pleas. I found myself slapping the side of my right leg in frustration and in an effort to get her attention. The long beach taunted me with its scale as I briefly pondered the thought of having to chase her along the seemingly endless strip of cooling sand and shells. I haul her name at her again, my face reddening as passers-by start to turn their heads. She was free, and there was very little I could do for her now. I would just have to trust that she would come back to me, me and the secretly sticky treat I had snuck into my pocket before we left the house.

She was perfect, but at the time I wasn't sure if I could have her. I had seen pictures of her online and, while beautiful and particularly striking, I was also reminded of just how much time, effort, and, most definitely money, it would take to keep her happy, to keep her by my side and coming back to me. I wasn't sure if I was ready, I also wasn't sure if I could, in all honestly, do this to myself again. Was I ready? What about when I leave Korea? Would she come back with me? These were some of the questions I had to ask myself before committing to this 'till-death-do-us-part' relationship, at least that's how I planned to look and it. She was perfect and mine.

She was also small, as most were in Korea, but had not quite filled-out her own frame. Her ribs were clearly visible trough her matted and smelly hair and her dry eyes were big, yet warm and wanting. Her nails were black and her feet grubby and damp. None of that mattered though. She was breathing hard when I first met her, but so was I. Like a strange blind date we had assembled, not in cute coffee shop or mall, but on the streets of Gimpo one overcast, and eventually very stormy, summer afternoon.

Her name was Mandy and two caring foreigners had spied her in a park they frequent with their own canine companion. They told me that she had been there at least a week, apparently scavenging whatever bits of food she could find in one of Gimpo's smaller parks. The two girls told me they had observed her for a few days hoping that she was just a little lost, and that maybe her loving owners would soon find her, but when they saw a group of young elementary school boys taunting and teaser her with old cartons of food and tin cans (and the fact that she did not have any I.D tag) they made the decision to foster her.

Mandy was the name they gave her. Not because it was a particularly great name for a dog, or that she even looked like a Mandy. No, it was because she didn't look anything like a Mandy, and yes, it was a horrible name for such a stunning looking creature. You see, they two girls already had a little pup of their own (hence their park walks) and were not in a position to adopt another critter, domesticated or otherwise.

Wise, I thought knowingly, as that was the exact line of thinking I too had to muse over. So Mandy was her name, if only for a brief period of time, as they did not want to become attached to this little fox of a dog who would eventually be running free at the bottom of Africa, without a care in her little doggy world.

When I first made the longish trip out to Gimpo to meet them all, I made a promise to myself that no matter what happened I would go home and think hard on my decision to take her. It was a fool's promise that, one that I didn't know I would not be able to keep. Along the stretch of park where the two girls had found her I saw them slowly making their way towards me. At first all I saw was four silhouettes, two tall ones and two short ones, but the figures sharpened soon enough fro me to realise that that my promise would not be honoured. Despite her name and that unforgettable smell, I knew I was hers.

Her long legs made her look like a deer who just found her feet after birth, and the fluff around her neck gave her a mane not dissimilar to that of a sleepy lioness. One of her ears was droopy and bent over in an adorable way, and bounced into its 'normal' position on each puppy-stride she took towards me. I would later observe that this same ear would eventually straighten, as if sometime had filled her from the inside, something she didn't have when we first met.

The girls told me this little life forms sad story (I had read it online on the website they posted her on, but it was nice to hear it from them again) and assured me that they had done there best to clean her up. They had even taken her to their vet and gotten her a fresh bill of health. She was only a few months old, thin and frazzled but I knew she was mine. I would have to fatten her up and spoil her a bit to be sure, but that would come in time, along with the love.

The next day the two girls came to my side of town to drop her off. I had spent the rest of yesterday afternoon working out all the things I would need to get in order to welcome her to her new home. I had purchased a swank new leash and collar, a small bed for her to call her own, two stainless steel bowls, a packet of quality dog biscuits, and a few cans of dog food and tuna for her to enjoy. I had also gone around my apartment to clear the floor space of any offending items that she may get a hold of when I wasn't looking (it would turn out that she would only ever destroy one item of mine, a pair of organic sneakers I had seen on sale in Bucheon and never got to wear). As I was walking out the door to go meet my new puppy pal, I grab the W50,000 the girls would never actually ask for (it is common in Korea to pay a small amount to the foster family of an adopted pet. It's a contribution towards any vet bills, food or any other necessaries that come up), her new lead, and a box of milbone biscuit for good measure.

After waiting for five minutes or so, a cab pulled up and the girls got out. They apologised in Korea to the cabby for the mess, Mandy was not yet use to car trips and the trip over had caused her to be sick on the backseat. I hoped, for a sharp and troubling moment, that I was not about to collect a sickly and troublesome little puppy. That was not the case though, and in a few months time she would be sticking her head out of the passenger window, tongue and all, like the rest of them; with thoughts of her 'arrival sickness' as long behind her as her extended, wind whisked, tongue.

They handed me the leash and the little creature that was attached to it look confused, a little scared even if I am honest. I was too, but I knelt down slowly and presented an open hand to her as a gesture of goodwill. She licked it and I thought for a moment that I saw a small smile begin to curl the corner of her think black puppy lips. That was silly though, dogs don't smile, but that's what it was, that's what I remember. The girls and I had forgotten about the adoption money, and even with our extended correspondence they didn't ask for it. And so she would become the greatest single freebie I had ever received.

Free. She was free now. From the moment I took that leash I started formulating a dream for this little one. Her foxy features and unique colouring made me settle on the name "Kyuubi", a name from the popular Japanese manga "Naruto". If I am honest with myself one of biggest personal issues I had before I adopted her was knowing how she was going to have to live. Korea did not have spacious gardens for dogs to run around in, and even their many parks were surprisingly strict about leashes. No, she was going to have spend most of her time in a small officetel, later two bedroom apartment, for now at least. Until I would be able to take her back with me, home.

She was still running as hard as her long legs could propel her. The award beach sand didn't seem to give her the same muscle strains it did me as she skipped across the moisten shoreline with ease. The sun was coming down now, and the wind had picked up too. The windsurfers were enjoying the cool and breezy climate, but my time here was done. I called over and over again, knowing that my voice was being engulfed by the whipping winds and she would probably not hear me. Eventually she was too far for my voice to reach her, even if the winds suddenly died down. After a few moments I saw her stop and look around.

She turned this way and that, her little head jerking in each direction, looking for something, looking for me. I raised my hands like I was the last survivor on a remote island (and after shouting her name I was getting that desperate anyway) and she finally saw me. In a flash her head was low to ground and bobbing up and down madly as she bolted towards me. She was quick, quicker than before, and soon she would be upon me. Realising this I turned and run from her as fast as could, which would never be fast enough. I could here her pace quicken before she passed me. She skidded around my legs and pulled out in front of me, blocking my path. I dug my heels into the sand and just stopped in time. Her tail was wagging furiously, her eyes bright and electric, and posture primed and ready. Between one of her pants she let out bark, looking right into my eyes as she did so, and I knew want she wanted.

I reach into my pocket and at the exact same time she sat expectantly. With an open hand I presented the treat to her and nodded; she accepted it and run off again, this time, luckily, in the direction of my car.

- C.J Wheeler (chriscjw@gmail.com)

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