was my dog in Korea. My family called him that because of his breed:
Miniature Pinscher. He has a very tiny body: he weighs two kilograms
and is less than half-a-meter long. His short, glossy black hair
shines after a shampoo. Its black color is perfectly harmonized
with the brown band over his four ankles. He has a face as small
as my fist; big black watery eyes; a sparkling black nose, always
wet; a long mouth outlined with a brown color down to his neck.
He has two small round brown dots over his eyes; a short but stiff
tail that wags swiftly when he welcomes the family or feels happy;
relatively big ears which are straightened up normally but folded
down after a long sleep in a warm place.
is so skinny that I can feel all his bones by touching him. I can
also see the striped red-purple veins on his flexible ears. He likes
warm, even hot places; so he always creeps under the blanket placed
on the floor of a centrally heated room.
came to my house, carried by my son in his half-opened parka on
a windy, chilly afternoon in February 1998. My son and his friend
saw a tiny lost dog in front of the main entrance of his school,
wearing a grey, pink and white striped coat. He was looking around,
surrounded by many students in the morning of that day.
lot of students tried to touch him but he threatened them away,
making wrinkles on his nose, showing his teeth and growling at them.
son told me that he looked at the dog for some time and approached
him slowly. He thought to himself, "I honestly wish you could
live with us." Then he thrust out his palm towards the dog's
nose. He let the dog smell the scent of his hand first then patted
him with the other hand, then he held the little poor thing in his
arms. All his friends agreed that my son should be the lost dog's
master-to-be. So he took him to the night-duty teacher's room because
he was nearly frozen, where he thought he would revive in warm and
quiet room. He then said to the teacher that if the dog's real owner
didn't show up he would carry him home after school.
the day my son talked with his friends about the next barrier -
mother's permission. They all came home together that day and my
son asked me if he could raise a dog, and I saw that he was hiding
something in his parka. His friends then explained that their class
president gave my son a dog because he had too many dogs in his
apartment. They said that they already had dogs, so they couldn't
keep another one. They begged me to permit my son to raise a dog,
at which point my son produced this little black puppy. They had
already been to the vet for a health check-up. I could only say
'yes', though I was well aware that my children, especially my son,
have allergies to certain things. It was difficult for me to turn
down my son's wish. I had recently been given advice from a professor
that I had better buy a real dog for my early-teenage children to
stop them talking to the stuffed toy-dogs which they had kept from
their babyhood - they have always said to me, "Don't hurt my
babies," and making me to kiss their puppies. He has been with
us for three years and made our lives happy.