A Woman of My Word

I pride myself on being a woman of my word. If I say I am going to do something, I’ll do it.

(Unless it’s something I am telling myself I should do, and in that case, my word means nothing. Refer to:  Diet, Start My.)

About a month ago, my family and I decided we wanted to go to my favorite Thai restaurant for dinner. On the way there, we passed an animal rescue tent, which had lots of dogs, puppies, cats, and kittens ready to be adopted. Beside it were horrifying pictures of what these animals went through, and it was hard to look away.

As we were walking by, the three of us felt compelled to take a look at the animals. It was gut-wrenching to see. All of them were adorable and begging to go home with us using their cuteness.

But.

My husband and I agreed that having a dog in Korea would be a bad idea for a number of reasons. Out of curiosity, I asked when the tent would close up shop for the day. The volunteer said they’d close up at 6 p.m.  It was 5:30 p.m., and I was hungry.

(Refer to: Diet, Who Cares About My)

With heavy hearts, we walked away.

As we were walking, my son said, “I want a dog.” I told him I did, too, but we’d have to wait until next year, which is when we move back to the states. He was sad, but he surprisingly let it go. It’s probably because he knows “sucker” is written on my forehead, and all he’d have to do was wait me out.

During dinner, Matthew said, “I want a dog,” again. I told him I understood, and I wanted one, too, but we’d have to wait.

Matthew pleaded, “Please. I really want a dog.” I said, “Okay, let’s make a deal. If the tent is still up when we are done here, we’ll get a dog. Deal?”

“Deal, Mom.”

Famous. Last. Words.

You wouldn’t believe what happened next.

It’s past 6:30 p.m. and the *expletive* tent was still up.

BUT THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE CLOSED ALREADY.

I think it’s important to teach children that their word is their bond and a promise is a promise, not meant to be broken.

So, I ate my words. And we? Are the proud new owners of a Jindo-mix rescue dog.

(I’ll get into why Jindo-mix is important in this story in a minute.)

His name is Kit, an abbreviation of my best friend’s last name. He is white, 34 pounds, and less than 1 year old. Kit has a stub of a tail we thought was the result of being cut off. As it turns out, it’s a birth defect. As if we couldn’t love him more, my heart got bigger when the vet on post said it was a birth defect.

Remember when I said he’s a Jindo-mix? Let’s talk about that.

In South Korea, Jindo dogs are revered. They are considered national treasures, homeless or otherwise, and it is against the law to export a Jindo dog. They can go so far as to stop the dog from boarding the plane and take a blood sample to verify the dog isn’t a Jindo.

That? Stressed me out, and of course, we only learned that after the fact. We had already grown to love him, and we didn’t want to deal with the possibility of rehoming him after just two weeks.

Thankfully we got some answers. The vet on post said, “All of his paperwork says ‘mix,’ so don’t worry. They only have a law against exporting unneutered purebreds.”

Phew! Glad we opted for the neutered mutt! Waiting two weeks to hear that, though? Probably took a month off my life. I was so stressed about it.

When we asked a volunteer about Kit before we adopted him, she said, “He’s perfect.” She went on to say that he would probably never get adopted because, to Koreans, he is too big. And perfect he is—for the most part. He’s loving, good with people (including kids), plays fetch, comes when you call him, and he even knows how to sit and shake hands. He’s fantastic, except for this minor (read: major) issue of separation anxiety.

But, we will manage. He’s a great dog, and we are lucky to have him in our family.

If you are looking to add a furry member to your family, please consider adopting, not buying. You may want a specific breed (I have always wanted a pug…), but there are lots of adorable, loving animals in shelters that are waiting for their second (and sometimes third) chance.