JOURNAL: Hindang

"Who are the people in your neighborhood?" Sesame Street

THE WHITE DOG

Last week, as I was walking home from work, I saw something moving in and among the garbage sacks behind the school. Curious, I went over to investigate. It was a beautiful white dog, with pale tan spots on his shanks and hindquarters, and he was digging in the garbage. He was a little, but well-built thing, and I recognized him as a pure-bred Korean dog; I have seen them all over the place, but do not know what the breed is called. They are a gentle, loyal, but not overly "dog-like" dog; they are more cat like in that they are very particular as to whom they associate with. The dog seemed vaguely familiar, and I wondered if he was one of the ones I saw daily on my trek to work. I also mentally cursed the people who could abandon such a lovely animal. He was slightly dirty, but did not seem undernourished or sick.

The dog did not seem alarmed at my presence, so I drew closer, and cautiously put out my gloved fist for him. He gave me a rather indifferent "sniff over," then went back to rummaging. His body leaned into to my petting and scratching, but his nose was too busy to acknowledge me personally. I wondered again who had abandoned such a lovely and docile creature.

As I was giving him attention, a man stepped shyly out of the shadows. He appeared to be searching for something. He saw the dog, and came over. I absentmindedly asked, in English, if it was his dog. To my surprise, he answered me in English. It was NOT his dog, but he knew the dog. It was a street dog, and the man had come to give it shelter and food for the night. I recognized the man as working at one of the shops on my route, and suddenly realized that this was the dog that sometimes sleeps in front of the shop. Intrigued, I asked how the shop had acquired the dog.

It seems the dog had been found wandering around the streets some months ago. The shop men had noticed it, but no one could approach it. One day, they found the dog cowering in the back of the shop. They coaxed it out, and cleaned it up. In their spare moments, the shop men had built a dog house (heated!) and began to feed the animal. The man sheepishly admitted that the dog even had a sweater! I wondered if the man had knitted it himself...He seemed very fond of the dog. The dog became accustomed to humans again over time.

The man picked up the little white canine, who snuggled into his down jacket contentedly. I asked the man what the dog's name was. The man blushed and giggled, replying,
"Huindang."

I asked a Korean friend later what it meant, and he laughed and said it meant "white dog."

Huindang apparently remembered me the next morning. On my way to my pre-work sandwich shop, I saw him and the "shop boys" lounging around outside. Huindang came up to me, gave me a few delicate sniffs, and wagged his tail. He then gently nibbled my fingers in a mock play tug-of-war. I gently coaxed him to jump up and nip my fist a few times, and after a few final pats and head scritches, began to walk away. Huindang, like many dogs in Seoul, is not leashed, so he began to follow me. He followed me all the way down to the door of the sandwich shop,amusing his caretakers greatly, but I did not let him follow me inside. He was still in the area when I came back out 20 minutes later.

There is something endearing about a country where people care for even a humble street dog.