Comrade and Commissar

Dear Umma,

You always said animals know more about kindness than people. I think today, you’d be right.

Near the teashop where I work, there’s a small alley where a stray dog named Chol-su likes to nap in the sun. He’s big, calm, and always greets me with one tail wag and a look like he’s judging my life choices.

A few weeks ago, a tiny kitten—barely more than fluff—was found crying in a cardboard box. Her name is Dallae now. Her mother had been hit by a car, which is honestly ridiculous, because no one even drives here. One unlucky moment, one lost life.

But then something strange happened. Chol-su took her in.

At first, he just watched over her like some confused uncle. But after a few days, she started following him everywhere. And I mean everywhere. When he lies down, she climbs on top of him. When he eats, she waits her turn (sort of). He even lets her bat at his ears when she’s feeling bold.

The whole neighborhood’s obsessed. Some of the old women call them "Comrade and Commissar." No one knows who’s who.

Every time I see them together, I think of you and our old farm cat, Mugi. Remember how she used to sleep curled up next to our chicken like it was the most normal thing in the world?

Sometimes, love and family don’t come from where you expect—but they come all the same.

With love from the city,
Your daughter, Eun-ji