The Dog Who Dared to Dream

by Sun-mi Hwang

Genres: General Fiction; Literary Fiction

Synopsis

FROM THE INTERNATIONAL BESTSELLING AUTHOR SUN-MI HWANG This is the story of a dog named Scraggly. Born an outsider because of her distinctive appearance, she spends most of her days in the sun-filled yard of her owner's house. Scraggly has dreams and aspirations just like the rest of us. But each winter, dark clouds descend and Scraggly is faced with challenges that she must overcome. Through the clouds and even beyond the gates of her owner's yard lies the possibility of friendship, motherhood and happiness - they are for the taking if Scraggly can just hold on to them, bring them home and build the life she so desperately desires. The Dog Who Dared to Dream is a wise tale of the relationship between dog and man, as well as a celebration of a life lived with courage. Translated into English for the first time, it is a classic from Sun-mi Hwang, the international bestselling author.

Release date: October 11, 2016

Publisher: Abacus

Print pages: 176

Sample

 

 

 

The brown dog lifted her head off the ground and growled as she nursed her pups. But that was it – she didn’t even bare her teeth. ‘I thought he’d come only after we starved to death,’ she muttered.

The wire mesh gate, covered with a blanket, opened with a clang. Cold air rushed in. Shivering, she glimpsed the changing colours of the persimmon tree outside as the old man entered the large metal cage. His footsteps had given him away; she wouldn’t have remained so calm if it had been anyone else. After all, it had only been thirteen days since she’d given birth.

The old man closed the gate behind him and placed a steaming pot on the ground. He blew out cigarette smoke, his face becoming blurry. ‘Now you guys aren’t so green any more,’ he said, reaching down to remove the pups. They kept suckling, their eyes closed. ‘You rascals! You’ll kill her with all that sucking.’

‘I’ll say,’ murmured the mother dog. She slowly got to her feet. ‘This litter has quite an appetite.’ She looked exhausted. Her teats were red and swollen and her fur was stiff. She began to wolf down her breakfast.

The old man crouched nearby and finished the rest of his cigarette, watching her. She was shivering. Her shoulder bones protruded from her thin frame. The pups snuffled around, looking for their mother’s nipples, whining for her attention. She didn’t pay them any mind, focused as she was on eating.

The man turned off the kerosene heater in the corner. It had been on all night long. ‘All different colours,’ he remarked.

Two were entirely brown, two were brown with white spots, three were brown with black spots, and one was very dark, almost bluish black.

‘Just a few more days of hard work,’ he said, stroking their mother with his rough hand. ‘We’ll find them owners soon.’

The mother dog finished the entire pot, but she wasn’t quite full. She licked the remnants on the ground and looked up at the old man, who was holding a spotted puppy that had been pushed off the blanket they had been lying on.

He tutted. ‘The firstborn…’ He looked down at it sadly. The puppy was already stiff. ‘Weak from the very beginning, and now it’s gone.’

‘That one was born too weak,’ sighed their mother. ‘It didn’t even suckle properly. Why is it always the firstborns that make me cry, every time?’ She lay down again with a grunt. The pups burrowed into her, nudging her with their heads and tapping her with their front paws. Her belly jiggled gently. The babies struggled for nipples. The two strongest ones, both brown, pushed their siblings aside and settled in the middle. The black pup fell backwards in the tussle. She tried to push her way back in but couldn’t clamber over her siblings’ legs. Whimpering, she tried again. But nobody moved aside.

The old man gazed down at her. ‘You’re certainly not the weakest. Why are you letting yourself be shoved away?’ He placed the small, lightweight pup on his palm. ‘How did your mother come to have an odd one like you? Your fur’s come in already. And you’re all black!’

‘It’s a first for me, too,’ said the mother dog. ‘Their father doesn’t look like that.’

The black pup sniffed the man’s hand. It smelled of metal. She knew this scent. Earlier, her siblings had pushed her, causing her to topple over onto the bare floor. She had hit her head on the wire mesh, and this smell had enveloped her. Her eyelids fluttered, her head hurting anew. She opened her eyes slowly to see the man’s wrinkled face, patchy with dark scabs, burned by the sparks that landed on his face when he soldered.

‘Look at you! You’re the first to open your eyes!’ The old man plucked a brown pup nestled in the middle and set down the blue-black puppy in its place.







 

 

 

‘Put him down at once!’ Grandpa Screecher swung the broom.

Startled, the mother dog dropped Spot, who was whining pitifully. Barking, the mother fled to the vegetable garden where the cabbage for the winter kimchi was almost ready to pick.

‘Bad dog!’ screamed Grandpa Screecher, waving the broom. ‘Come out of there right this instant!’

The puppies called the old man Grandpa Screecher because he shouted and yelled so much. But it was partly the pups’ fault. They roamed as a pack and destroyed things, chewing up shoes, playing with the tray Grandma left on top of the earthenware pots in the yard, eating all the fish drying on a tray, gnawing on slices of dried courgette. When they grew bored of chewing on the vegetables, they pooped on them. They swatted at clean washing that had fallen on the ground. Once, they even managed to get into the shed and played with a cord, which ended up winding itself around one pup’s neck and nearly suffocating him.

‘Where’s my eldest?’ barked their mother from the vegetable patch. ‘Where is she?’

Of course, Grandpa Screecher couldn’t understand what she was saying. ‘Now you’re really getting on my nerves!’ he shouted, running over with the broom in his hand. She hid behind the earthenware pots then ran into the yard. She scurried back into the vegetable patch and then into the shed. All the while, she kept barking, ‘Where’s my eldest? Where is she?’

Scraggly, the black puppy, crouched under the window and watched her mother and Grandpa Screecher running around. She could tell her mother was incensed. She would have to take care not to get bitten like poor Spot. Her mother had been angry a few days ago, too. A stranger had walked straight into their cage, stepping on their blanket. He smelled unfamiliar. Then, he had taken one of her spotted siblings.

The same thing had happened this morning. A man came to see Grandpa Screecher, then took the eldest home with him. But their mother had gone out to the poultry farm with Grandma and had missed the transaction. Scraggly didn’t like how the man smelled – scorched. He was wearing shoes that had been burnt. When the stranger came closer to her, grinning, Scraggly curled into herself. She would bite him if he even dared to reach towards her. But he didn’t so much as glance at her.

‘Nice antics!’ A hair-raising chortle came from the top of the wall to interrupt Scraggly’s thoughts. It was the old cat.

Scraggly glared at the cat, who was perched high up. Scraggly didn’t trust the old beast. All she did was creep around silently, spying on everyone. Scraggly barked. The cat sneered, her eyes narrowing and her sharp teeth flashing. Scraggly felt the hair on her back rise. The old cat laughed, pacing slowly along the top of the neighbour’s wall, making Scraggly feel dizzy. The man who had taken the eldest had spoken in a hoarse voice, just like the cat. She barked at the cat, who swiped at her then disappeared down. . .