Yesterday, just 30 minutes after Tabitha fell 6 feet from a tree onto her belly, Aiden came ran into the house and was screaming, “A squirrel bit me!”
He said, “I was staring at the squirrel, and he was staring at me.”
Apparently, squirrels don’t like to be stared down.
Moments after hanging up with the pediatrician, concluding that Tabitha would be okay without medical intervention, I called them right back to say we’d be bringing in Aiden!
The squirrel walked over and brushed its tail against Aiden’s leg, he said. Aiden picked up his foot to back away. The squirrel “was very strong” and bit the bottom of Aiden’s bare foot. Aiden apparently punched the squirrel in the face, and the squirrel scampered back to the tree. (I didn’t find out this detail until I was putting Aiden into bed later that night, and he said, “Did you find the squirrel mom? I punched it so hard that I think I killed it!”)
There was a little bit of blood on the bottom of Aiden’s foot, and a small puncture, a tad smaller than a pencil eraser. I poured rubbing alcohol over it, and then scrubbed it with a alcohol-doused paper towel.
Tom called in from the airport – he was coming home from being overseas – just as we were leaving to go to the pediatrician.
Grandma Becky met us at the pediatrician’s to sit with the other kids in the lobby while I took Aiden to the exam room.
Dr. John evaluated the wound and then looked up information about animal bites and rabies. The “Red Book” said to contact the local health department to assess the risk for the biting animal to see if there were cases of rabies being reported for that species. However, the Chester County Health Department was closed for the evening, and without enough information to make a decision as for what to do next, yet still within the 24 hours needed to immunize Aiden if necessary, we were sent home.
That evening, I called our pastor and asked him to please pray that Tom and I would have wisdom as we made decisions regarding Aiden’s health.
Pastor Strawbridge recommended that we call a fellow member of the congregation, Dr. Knepley who is the State Veterinarian for Pennsylvania, to help us have a broader perspective of the situation in order to make a more informed decision.
Knepley handles over 400 cases of animal rabies each year. When I described the behavior of the squirrel, he said that it was actually “normal behavior” for a squirrel who felt threatened – a warning bite. A rabid squirrel, however, would have to be pried off it’s victim as it would have continued the fight, quite viciously.
Squirrels rarely are rabid. Their treetop habitat is somewhat isolated from other animals and they are on a different sleep schedule than nocturnal animals that typically carry rabies, such as raccoons and skunks.
While Chester County notoriously led the nation for the number of confirmed rabies cases in 1988 and continues to have a significantly elevated number of rabies cases in comparison to other parts of the world, there has only been one known case of a squirrel having rabies in all of Pennsylvania – seven years ago. According to Knepley, a man was attacked while raking his yard. The squirrel was so relentless in its attack that neighbors had to pull the squirrel off of the poor guy. This is the characteristic behavior of a rabid squirrel – not one who backs down at the punch of a four year old.
Knepley also said that rabies was a “fragile virus” and that soap and water would likely kill it – but I practically “pickled” any germs on Aiden’s foot, even ones from seven days ago, by putting cleaning it with rubbing alcohol.
The Chester County Health Department returned our pediatrician’s call the next day. They that they had no cases of rabid squirrels to report. Dr. John said it seemed unlikely that the squirrel had rabies and she left the decision up to us saying if we chose the rabies vaccinations, that would be okay with her, too.
There have only been a few cases of people surviving rabies, said Knepley. All but one resulted in the person being reduced to a vegetative state. The least effected survivor, a little girl, had loss of some motor skills, but miraculously was otherwise was unscathed. She had been administered the vaccine just before the onset of the rabies symptoms. It was not soon enough to prevent the virus. At the first signs of rabies, she was put into a medically induced coma to prevent convulsions – and with rabies, I’ve read that people can die from the convulsions alone.
Rabies doesn’t always show up right away, either. Here’s a story of a man from the 1908 NY Times who was barely scratched by the tooth of a rabid puppy, and didn’t show signs of having rabies until nine months later, just before he died of the virus.
The decision isn’t one we took lightly. I begged God for wisdom, as this situation certainly is out of my league. Three experts – the Health Department, The official State Veterinarian of Pennsylvania and our Pediatrician – gave the same, clear answer: “We are leaving the decision up to you, but if it were my child, I would not immunize them with this scenario.” (The pain and side effects from the shot are apparently not something one would wish on another human being – although I have heard that an entire family in our church had to be vaccinated because a rabid bat was found in their home, and I have not asked how they tolerated the vaccine.)
And so, I am praying that the decision to not immunize Aiden – because alcohol was applied to the wound immediately, because it is extremely rare that squirrels carry rabies, and because the behavior of the squirrel was “normal” for a squirrel who felt threatened – was the right one.
We are praying that if there is a rabid squirrel in our neighborhood, that it would show up – as sick animals are quite noticeable to discerning humans – and that we would know in time to immunize Aiden if necessary.
While I’m mostly hopeful, I am admittedly still a little frightened. Death from rabies is unspeakably horrific.
As bizarre as this story may seem, I wasn’t surprised that it happened to my curious son. He is quite daring, with no sense of danger whatsoever. When he was little, we nicknamed him “Danger Mouse”. I love him very much.
