Neil: Rabies Day 2012

          Each day has the potential to be awesome. So does each dog. I have discovered, however, in my interactions with both dogs and days (including the dog days of summer) that they both have the potential to become infused with infectious enthusiasm--or just an infectious disease.

           Such was today. I first discovered World Rabies Day when a friend of a friend who had a dog bite incident in Honduras—the friend of mine, not her friend who wasn't in Honduras, mind you, and she didn't bite the dog first, it was an old fashioned Western Saloon standoff—this is getting confusing.

          Scratch that. Take Two. A dear friend of mine was bitten by a dog in Honduras last summer, and she knew I had a thing for rabies, if not the actual virus (The jury is still out on this one.) She told me of a wondrous day where all things Rabies were celebrated. World Rabies Day...the words simply slide off the teeth like infected saliva...If you're still reading, I salute you. Your attention span suggests you don't have it, either. WRD is actually an awareness holiday to let people know about the importance of continuing to vaccinate animals worldwide, as 55,000 fatalities occur every year because of rabies.

        Last year on September 28, I celebrated WRD at BYU in grand fashion, strapping a coonskin cap to my head and taping a sign to my chest that stated “ 'Tis World Rabies Day!” I then proceeded to run around campus all day with the goal to share the joy, sharing actual statistics with people who took me seriously and advising all others to “catch the spirit of the season, not the disease.” Hundreds were educated that day, and I like to think that someone eyed the bushes in their front yard suspiciously that night, convinced a rabid foe lay hungrily wait.

        I thought not any Rabies Day could top that first momentous celebration of life and the prevention of its loss by infected furry friends. I thought wrong.

         5:30 AM I awoke as happy as most people are on Christmas, or as happy as Scrooge is on December 26^th. I stepped outside to exclaim with joy as I saw the Great Rabid Bat in the Sky (brings rabies-themed gifts to all the uninfected good girls and boys, but it's got a low budget and can't usually bring more than dead bugs to people, so next time you find a dead dragonfly on the porch, feel honored) had deigned to visit my doorstep. It was adorned with crepe paper, snarling mammals and a sign that said “Happy World Rabies Day!” I knew it was to be a truly awesome day. A similar sign had been taped up to the banister in the main stairway to share the message with all. Breakfast was good. I was just exclaiming my joy on this lovely holiday to some people at my table when they casually mentioned that maybe Lizzie of our group was rabid, too. I laughed at this seemingly irrelevant comment when suddenly I felt a sharp pressure on my right shoulder and turned to find Lizzie's teeth in retreat from my freshly wounded arm.

          “Bah!” I exclaimed. I then teared up. What a beautiful holiday greeting! I thanked her and Lizzie smiled back. She has beautiful teeth and a great smile. More so when they aren't sunken into my deltoid. I reached out to give her a hug. As she came in, her shoulder came within easy reach of my canines. I instantly seized my chance and bit the unsuspecting Lizzie in one fluid motion. Rabies had struck again.

I set this as the background on the Center computers as a friendly reminder.

         The day continued in glory. Trying to share the love, I changed the background of each of the computers in the lab with the attached picture, once again advising them to “catch the spirit of the season, not the disease.” Shawn took this sublime message to heart and mouth. A shocked gasp and then laughter met Shawn as he walked into Old Testament, jowls covered in rabid foam—er, shaving cream. During the class, our teacher would take a comment or question from Shawn and momentarily lose concentration before returning to the subject at hand.

          When it came time for our next class, Studies of the Ancient Near East, I felt inspired. Shawn, Nicole Hawkes, and I all smeared our jaws with shaving cream to get in the festive mood. When our professor saw we were already entering the advanced stages of the disease, he could only shake his head in disbelief and tell us of the cause of the Egyptian New Kingdom's fall. No, it wasn't rabies.

         In the evening, we had dinner. I watched people flagrantly defy the spirit of the day by feeding stray cats, but my rage was placated by the awesome fried bananas at the salad bar. Later on, we had a “Pin the Eye on the 'Coon” contest (I had an Evil Eye magnet from Turkey) and a tropical fruit party. This, because if I knew I had rabies and only had a little while to eat and live, I'd be eating tropical fruit. We chose persimmons and passionfruit.

          Yet the best part was still to come. Through the wonderful mechanism of social action known as Peer Pressure, four rabid fans of the Day-- Mackenzie, Nicole, Shawn, and I slathered some shaving cream 'round the jaws and set off to visit Lizzie again. We found her cuddling and watching a movie in the theater-like forum, but even PDA couldn't save her now. I set the bite to the arm, and for a moment the day's festivities seemed to be over. BUT THEN--

          Andrew, who is charismatic, hilarious, and tall, sees the deed take place. Without hesitation, he leaps to his feet and sprinted out of the room. At that moment, our predator instincts kick in as our eyes hungrily follow our departing prey. We give chase, howling and snarling as we rushed through the narrow halls leading out of the forum. We were fast, but Andrew was faster. He ran so fast that the girl sitting on the couch outside conveniently “couldn't remember” which way he went. There was no sign of him. How could this happen? Howling with mock rage, we sought him out across the different levels and hiding places of the center, seeking our prey. During the chase, we took a consolation prize—virtually every human being in the center that unluckily stumbled across our path. Surprised and disbelieving, few withstood our pack of frothy jaws for long. It was lucky so many people were in their rooms by this point (Annie included) for we showed little mercy. The entire laundry room fell, as did the stairwells. Nicole and Shawn went for my roommate Jacob, who was having his hair cut at the time. Bad idea—the man's arms were covered with loose hair which went straight into their mouths. Few joined us after they'd been bit. I figured as much, the infection usually took about 9 days to set in.

          We kept searching, but we never did find Andrew. All this time, he had hidden in a room we'd simply overlooked in our frenzy. He had recruited people loyal his cause to hide him. They never did tell us his location, and he was saved from certain infection. Over fifteen minutes he waited in the dark for the chance to escape to his room, which finally presented itself when we overran the laundry room.

        By the time our biting rampage was over, maybe more than fifteen people had “perished,” and we considered that the Ghosts of Rabies Past, Present and Future had been appeased, if such things existed. And so we called it a night, and anxiously began anew the countdown to the next World Rabies Day, just a mere 364 days away.