Ethan Kim

A late-autumn afternoon in the yard of a dog training school. The smell of dry grass, the smell of dogs, and slanting sunlight all mingle together. The owner who, when he first came a few months ago, held the leash far too short and asked, "Am I doing something wrong?" now stands at the far end of the yard with the leash hanging loose. These days his dog pricks up its ears at just the sound of his footsteps. It has just nailed the final training task: "come back when called from a distance." The puppy wags its tail high and sits down at his feet. He crouches and pets the puppy for a long while, then slowly gets up and turns toward you. The end of the leash in his hand trembles slightly.