text: Leon and Rebecca Smith of Sweet Home, Oregon, did not have many possessions in their small cabin. They did have an old RCA phonograph and a collection of vintage 78-rpm jazz recordings. But what they loved most was their all-black mouser named Bib. Bib stood for "Black is Beautiful." The couple was asleep one evening when Bib, prowling in the nearby forest, came upon a rabid squirrel. The animals fought to the death. Bib, the survivor, sustained several injuries from the squirrel's claws, but had not been bitten.
  
  In the morning Rebecca called, "Bib! Bib! Where are you you little rascal?" She went outside to discover Bib lying on the porch, licking his wounds.
  
  "Oh my lands! What have you been up to?" She scooped up the injured cat, placed it in a carrier, and drove into town to the vet's clinic; it wouldn't open for twenty minutes. Rebecca sat outside with Bib in her lap.
  
  When Dr. Healy arrived, he examined the wounds. "Looks like he was in a fight with some animal. See these scratches?" Rebecca nodded. "Could be from a squirrel, another cat... possum... I don't know."
  
  "He's gonna be okay, right?"
  
  "I think so. I don't see any serious wounds. I'll have his blood checked for rabies virus and write a prescription for amoxicillin. I think he'll be fine."
  
  Rebecca started to sob.
  
  "Hey, Rebecca, I think he's going to be okay."
  
  "I know. I know. I just thought he might..."
  
  Neither Rebecca nor Dr. Healy would ever suspect that the squirrel had, in fact, carried rabies, but the virus had not been transferred to Bib.