The Partial Observer by Jennifer Hill

My Own Groundhog Day

Before my family and I moved to Oneonta in 2018, we had either lived in a big city or near one. We believe cute, furry wildlife should be left to frolic as in a Disney movie and not hunted by our large pit bull, Sherlock. But our delicate urban sensibilities may have changed.

On June 30, I had just sat down on our back deck to relax after work when Sherlock flushed a groundhog from under the deck and tore down the hill after it. I jumped up and ran down after him, yelling uselessly at him to stop.

The groundhog almost made it under our fence at the bottom of the hill, but Sherlock caught it, shaking it violently in his large jaws. I grabbed Sherlock’s collar and tried to pull him off. But Sherlock is laser-focused when he hunts and 90 percent muscle, and he pulled me onto the ground. At some point, he released the groundhog, who dropped between us. As Sherlock lunged for it again, with me still holding his collar, the groundhog bit me above the knee.

Dude, I tele-thought to it, I’m trying to help YOU. The groundhog wouldn’t let go of my leg and it hurt. I finally managed to shake it off as Sherlock thrashed it some more.

Fortunately, my daughter came running down and helped me get Sherlock off the groundhog, which collapsed on the ground and later died. We dragged Sherlock back to the house. Inside, I saw the bite was about two inches long but shallow. It wasn’t until I was cleaning it and rinsing the mud off my legs that I thought, rabies!

I googled “groundhog” and “rabies,” hoping it would not tell me groundhogs can carry rabies. But it did. Stupid Google.

At that moment, my husband Matt came home from grocery shopping and we told him what had happened.

“You’re going to have to get checked for rabies,” he said.

It had been my lifelong plan never to get a rabies shot, but I knew Matt was right. We went to Fox Hospital. Rob, the Emergency Room doctor on duty, told me I was his first possible-groundhog-rabies-bite.

“A first for me, too!” I said.

We high-fived.

The ER has to report possible rabies cases to the Otsego County Department of Health. Danielle was the lucky OCDOH person on call that night. She called me at the ER from a restaurant. I hated interrupting her Friday night.

Danielle told me we could collect the groundhog’s body, have it tested for rabies and, if negative, I wouldn’t have to get shots. I liked that option. But we’d have to freeze the groundhog’s body—which meant in our freezer next to waffles and ice cream—until Monday when the OCDOH would pick it up at our house and send it out for testing. The problem was, we were going to Virginia the next day to visit my parents and wouldn’t be back until Tuesday, July 4.

Danielle then told me rabies shots were much better than they used to be (yay), but I would have to get a series of them over two weeks (boo.) She also said Otsego County would pay for all the shots. I decided I’d get them.

The ER people didn’t 100 percent agree with Danielle. Yes, the shots were less painful now, but they were no picnic. I would get the rabies vaccine in my shoulder, which was like other mostly painless shots, but also three to five mini-injections right around my bite, which they indicated would hurt. However, that would be the worst of it. The vaccine boosters I’d have to get on three, seven and 14 days afterward would also be in my shoulders and painless.

Matt was allowed to come back and hold my hand while Dr. Rob expertly administered the mini-shots around the bite. They stung a lot, but surprisingly, the pain faded quickly. We finally left close to 9 p.m. and got take-out for dinner.

The ER people gave top-notch care that night. Danielle from OCDOH helped me throughout the July 4th weekend to ensure I got my three-days-after booster–in West Virginia! I am grateful I live in a state that values public health.

From now on, though, I will let nature take its course.

Jennifer Hill lives in Oneonta.