The Unlikely Connection

It was an unusually mild winter day. Seohee was walking, wrapped in a black scarf with a down vest worn under her blue fall coat. Her only true strength was her sturdy legs, and her favorite pastime was walking. She imagined, 'If I follow this river, reach the Atlantic, and walk along the coastline, perhaps I could even make it to Florida.' She was lost in this whimsical thought when a black dog suddenly barked and charged toward her.

Seohee froze in terror. She looked around for the owner, who stood at a distance, holding the leash and watching with a cruel, smug expression, as if he were waiting for the dog to bite. Trembling with rage and pale with fear, Seohee shouted, "Your dog is trying to bite me! Why don't you control him? Don't you know there's a leash law after 9 a.m.?"

The owner just sneered, looking at his dog with more concern than he had for her. "My dog was just startled by your strange getup—sunglasses, mask, and hat."

Dogs resemble their owners. A vicious dog is a sign of a flawed master, while a kind owner is usually met by a gentle dog with clear, curious eyes. Some owners even seem to share their dog’s depression, wandering alone and isolated. Seohee had her own reasons for fearing dogs. Her first word as a child, after "Mom" and "Dad," was "Dog-bastard"—a word she heard adults use after she was mauled by a dog as a toddler. Her father, who adored her, had been devastated when a family dog dragged her into a dark corner while no one was looking. Though she survived, the scars on her legs remained, and she never trusted anyone who said, "Don't worry, my dog is friendly." She knew a dog has no reason, and a human can be just as dangerous.

Then there was Seungmi, who loved dogs with a passion as deep as Seohee’s fear. Born the youngest of eight, Seungmi had a difficult childhood. Her mother had worked tirelessly as a food vendor to put her eldest sister through pharmacy school. Seungmi grew up wearing hand-me-downs, feeling unloved and lonely in a busy, struggling household.

Seohee and Seungmi met by chance in a park in New York. Seungmi was walking her dog, "Nike," who had a thoughtful, philosophical expression, unlike any other dog Seohee had seen. Hearing Seungmi call the dog's name in a thick Gyeongsang dialect, Seohee realized she was Korean. Though she tried to avoid interaction, the dog eventually approached Seohee, looking at her intently.

"Your dog seems like he’s doing a lot of thinking," Seohee remarked. That broke the ice. They soon became close, with Seungmi frequently bringing homemade Korean dishes like rice cakes, dumplings, and kimchi.

However, Seungmi’s love for Nike was obsessive. She treated him like her own son, often telling Seohee, "Say hello to Nike! He’s looking at you with such sad eyes because you're leaving." Seohee found it suffocating. She couldn't understand why Nike’s needs—or her own shopping sprees—took precedence over everything else in Seungmi's life.

Seungmi was a shopaholic. Whenever she fought with her husband, she would run away, stay in a hotel, and shop to soothe her anger. One day, she suggested a trip. "Instead of sitting in a hotel, why don't we go on a trip together?"

Seohee, despite her reservations, agreed to a package tour of Eastern Europe. The trip was a disaster. Seohee, a seasoned traveler, found the rigid tour schedule dull, while Seungmi was obsessed with shopping, buying more luggage just to store her new belongings. The tension grew until one dark, gloomy night in Eastern Europe, Seungmi snapped.

"If you're in, you're in. If you're out, you're out. Why do you always hide behind 'I don't mind'?" Seungmi yelled, her dialect sharp with rage. "You're so capable when you're alone, so why are you so wishy-washy with me?"

Seohee was shocked. She remembered the rumors that Seungmi had once physically attacked a roommate. Fearful of her volatile temper, Seohee stayed silent. She realized that Seungmi couldn't stand anyone who didn't wag their tail at her like Nike.

Seohee thought, 'I'm sorry I'm not Nike. There are plenty of dogs in this world who will gladly obey your need for control, but I won't.'

The relationship shattered on that trip. After returning, they avoided each other. One day, they crossed paths in the park. Seohee waved and tried to say hello to the dog, but Seungmi walked right past her, dragging Nike along. As Seohee watched her walk away, she thought of an old saying: "Don't chase those who leave, don't block those who come."

Eventually, the memory of their brief, troubled friendship faded, and they became total strangers once again, as if nothing had ever happened.