Lions and Tigers (and little rabid kitties)

I always imagined my first encounter with rabies and the Thai medical system would begin with some hideous Cujo look-alike. In my mind the nightmare would generally unfold as some variation of the following scenario:

I encounter the dog while running, or maybe during a visit to a remote shrimp farm. He looks like a comic book rendition of one of the hounds of hell, sinewy veins protruding over bulky muscles. He is front-loaded like a pit-bull or a boxer. He is mangy, infected bits of raw pink skin burning through patches of filthy fur. Foam seeps between teeth that glisten like steak knives in the sun. He absolutely wants to kill me. Blood-red lips peel back to communicate this with one continuous growl. His eyes are wild, blinded by the sickness that has turned this dog into a demon.

I am of course far beyond hearing range to call for help. Still I try in vain, and shakily prepare to defend myself. I lift a rock over my head, threatening, but this only angers the beast further. He charges. The rock connects. Momentarily stunned, he shakes his head, venomous spittle speckling white on the red dirt path. He charges again. Rock 2 misses. Rock 3…. Where is rock 3?!....

It’s a slow road to recovery, one that begins with fifty-seven stitches and 15 excruciating rabies shots to the abdomen.

Ok so that is how I imagined my first encounter with rabies. Here is the very anti-climactic, true story of how it actually happened:

I am walking to the office, happily preoccupied with a call from home. I hear a loud and constant meowing. Imagine a car alarm that makes a “MEOOOW” sound over and over. It sounds just like that. Out of nowhere comes a beautiful little grey and white Siamese cat with bright blue eyes. It looks pretty clean and well cared for, so I don’t go out of my way to avoid it. I continue talking.

Suddenly I realize the cat is coming toward me. ‘What a weird cat’ I think, but continue talking. I’ve met Siamese cats in the States before and I know they are a particularly strange breed of cat with peculiar behavioral patterns. The possibility of rabies hasn’t even entered my mind.

The cat comes closer, meowing away. It is purring and rubbing against my ankles, pacing figure 8s around my feet. It rolls over to reveal its flawless snow white belly, meowing and purring the whole time. Absent-mindedly I reach a ginger toe over and rub its belly. I’m still talking, when….. “MEOOOOOOOOW” ---- CRUUNCH!!! Out of nowhere, the cat tears into my foot. I quickly jump away and the cat continues with its meow alarm routine.

After a quick, air-conditioned trip to the hospital for a mostly painless shot to the arm the “ordeal” was over. I just need five of those shots (one per week) and my anti-climactic brush with rabies will be complete. The best part: I’m covered for a whole year, so if my imagined scenario should actually arise, I don’t have to worry about rabies. Now I get to play with all the rabid (and questionably rabid) animals I want! I think I’ve learned my lesson though about animals in other countries.