Hair of the dog
Dubrovnik, Croatia
I AM PHOTOGRAPHING inhabitants of a dog shelter high on a hill overlooking Dubrovnik, Croatia. The setting is stupendous. I don’t understand why this land hasn’t been appropriated for luxury condos or a beautiful hotel.
The dogs are friendly, needy, eager for any attention shown them. Their coats are matted and dirty. The shelter workers try their best to care for 100 dogs with no help from the city other than donations of large sacks of dry dog food.
Beth has accompanied me to Croatia, her interest heightened once I suggested we visit this dog shelter. She is the consummate animal lover and is in her element here, surrounded by a group of dogs, jumping on her, excited, barking, clamoring for the treats she offers. I stand back. The dogs are big, dirty ruffians. I gingerly pat one terrier on its ragged head. Nice puppy, good boy. While I am distracted, Beth continues feeding the rowdy little pack the tidbits in her hand.
Beth walks over to me. “Do you have a wet wipe in your backpack?” she asks. A dog has nipped her while vying for a treat. She shows me her hand, spreading the edges of the bite. I blanch. “We’re going to the emergency room,” I tell her. She protests, “It’s nothing. The dog didn’t mean it, it wasn’t vicious, it was trying to grab a treat.” All Beth wants is a wipe to clean it off. I look closer. I can see the tendon in her hand.
I ask a shelter worker, “Are your dogs vaccinated against rabies?” “Yes,” she answers. “All of them?” I ask. “We hope so,” she replies. I turn back to Beth. “We’re going to the ER.”
Our guide, Draco, picks us up and excitedly drives us to a hospital. The last thing he wants is an injured traveler on his watch. He goes into the exam room with Beth so he can translate. I am not allowed to accompany her so I wait in the hallway. Draco comes out with a box in his hand, saying, “The doctor wants to give this to Beth and Beth is protesting, she doesn’t know what it is.” I look it up on my phone. It is manufactured by GSK, a reputable European drug company, not a product of some sketchy Third World producer. This satisfies Beth and she emerges 30 minutes later, one rabies shot in each thigh, with strict instructions to follow up for more at home.
Back in the hotel, Beth starts calling her physician friends in the USA, infectious disease, family practice, internal medicine doctors. They have no answers or advice, they never see rabies, all American dogs are vaccinated. They tell her to call the county health department once we return.
We leave for the USA as planned the next day and make phone calls on our return. The Health Department frantically says come in ASAP. A series of injections is begun, lasting 14 days.
Beth now has lifetime immunity against rabies.
