Please Look After Mom by Kyung-Sook Shin Read Free Book Online Page B

Chindo tied next to the shed. It was sweltering, and the chain was so short that it seemed the panting dog, unable to get out of the sun, would fall over dead at any moment. You told Mom to untie the dog. Mom said that if she did people would be too scared to walk by. How could she chain a dog up like that, especially in the countryside … Because of the dog, you argued with Mom as soon as you arrived, not even bothering to say hello. “Why do you keep the dog tied up? Let it roam.” But Mom insisted, “Nobody, not even in the country, lets their dog run around. Everyone ties their dog on a chain—if you don’t, it’ll get lost.” You shot back, “Then you have to get a longer chain. If you tie it up with such a short chain, how is a dog supposed to survive in this heat? Do you treat it like that just because it can’t speak up for itself?” Mom said that was the only chain in the house; it was the one she had used for the previous dog. “Then you can go buy one!” Even though you’d come home for the first timein a long while, you drove back to town before setting foot in the house and brought back a chain so long that the dog could wander down the side yard. That’s when you realized the doghouse was small. You headed out again, saying you were going to get another doghouse. But Mom stopped you, insisting that there was a carpenter in a neighboring village whom she could ask to build her a new doghouse. Your mom couldn’t fathom paying for a house for an animal: “There are pieces of wood everywhere, and all you need to do is hammer it here and there, and you want to pay money for that? You must have money rotting in your pockets.” Later, when you left for the city, you gave her two ten-thousand-won checks and got her to promise that she would build the dog a big house. Mom promised she would. Back in Seoul, you called a few times to make sure that Mom had the doghouse built. Though she could have lied, each time she said, “I’m going to, I’ll do it soon.” The fourth time you called and heard the same answer, your anger overflowed.
    “I gave you the money for it and everything. Country people are terrible. Don’t you feel bad for the dog? How is it supposed to live in that tiny space, especially in this heat? There’s feces inside, and the poor thing has stepped all over it, and you don’t even clean it up. How can such a big dog live in such a small contraption? Otherwise, let him roam free in the yard! Don’t you feel bad for the dog?”
    The phone went silent. You started to regret saying that country people were terrible.
    Mom’s angry voice came shooting across the line. “You care only about the dog, and not your own mother? Do you think your mother is the kind of person who would abuse adog? Don’t tell me what to do! I’m going to raise it my way!” Mom hung up first.
    You were the one who always hung up first. You would say, “Mom, I’ll call you back,” and then you didn’t. You didn’t have time to sit and listen to everything your mom had to say. But this time your mom had hung up on you. It was the first time Mom had gotten so angry with you since you left home. Once you moved out, Mom always said, “I’m sorry.” She confessed that she’d sent you to live with Hyong-chol because she couldn’t take care of you well enough. Mom would try as hard as she could to lengthen the call when you phoned. But even though she hung up first, you were more disappointed in the way she was keeping the dog. You were puzzled. How had Mom become that person? She used to look after all the animals in the house. She was the kind of person who would come to Seoul for an extended stay and three days later insist on going home to feed the dog. How could she be so clueless now? You were annoyed at your mom for becoming so insensitive.
    A few days later, Mom called. “You weren’t like this before, but you’ve become cold. If your mother hangs up like that, you’re supposed to call her