Not rabid

Treasures I have accumulated:

Harmonica, small enough for a pocket, which I can whip out on walks to school. It is comforting to hear sounds made by myself. I played it on a wet morning last week when blue mist was rising from fields. I watched a far-off woman sowing seed. She could have been in any century, over the waves of wet soil.

Cowrie shell (from sidewalk).

Used book of Oscar Wilde selections that my friend Angela gave me: fin de siècle design of leaves inked across the covers, satisfyingly black.

Yellow-and-green dotted pysanka egg from my tutoring student Alina.

A caramel in gold wrapper, handed to me by a small boy, black-fingernailed, grinning with teeth slightly caved-in. He asked, “What is your favorite toy?” (An elephant named Filfy.)

... 

Currently am in the Peace Corps office in Kiev where I’ve received the first of my rabies shots. Am disappointed not to become a werewolf. Last week a couple dogs were playing across the road, and then suddenly became SO barky and angry. One grabbed my ankle in his voracious jaws. There was only a little blood. I limped away, the dog still snapping. (See: Earlier entry for my cartoon drawing representing myself and the Страшна сабака, scary dog. That is a good illustration of my emotional state at the time.)

I am pretty sure Ukraine is trying to kill me.

However, Dr. Yuri, the dashingly weathered yet boyish-faced Peace Corps doctor, has come to my rescue with vaccines. He told me about all the animals he saw when working in African rainforests. Once, an ELEPHANT charged at his group. They all ran in different directions, waited twenty minutes, and when they tried to return down the path, the elephant was still waiting for them. The moral of the story is: You can not stop animals from attacking you, because they are not only angry, but sneaky.