How a Rabid Dog and a Kids’ Book Turned Me Into a Scientist

When I was around five years old, I had a children’s book called The Value of Believing in Yourself: The Story of Louis Pasteur.

Story by Spencer Johnson, M.D.; Illustrated by Steve Pileggi(1976) Value Communications, Inc. (original copyright) The actual book that this picture was taken was published by Value Communications, La Jolla, CA and can be found at https://www.amazon.com/dp/0916392066?ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_fed_asin_title 

I vividly remember the story of a scientist obsessed with invisible enemies­—germs.

He would spend his days in his laboratory working on concoctions to fight these germs.

Meanwhile, there was this dog, sick and foaming at the mouth; he was an angry dog.

He was so angry that one day that dog bit a little boy.

The bite transferred the germs to the little boy and he got the germs and became very sick.

The little boy had gotten rabies from the dog and was going to die. Somehow, word got out that Pasteur was working on a cure for rabies and the boy was given a shot containing the concoction.

The boy survived, and this was the first time that someone had been cured of rabies!

As a child, I didn’t question the details—I was simply captivated by the idea of someone using science to save a life. The book was written for children, of course. It simplified the science and skipped over the complexities of Pasteur’s groundbreaking work with rabies. But what 5-year-old wants to dive into the nuances of vaccines and post-exposure prophylaxis?

At the time, it was just a bedtime story. It certainly didn’t register to my kindergarten mind that this small book might plant a seed that would grow into a lifelong interest in immunology. But looking back now, it’s hard not to see it as one of those subtle early influences that shaped who I would become.

Today, as someone who teaches immunology, I think a lot about how interests develop over time. They rarely show up fully formed, like a lightning bolt of purpose. More often, they grow from little moments—a conversation, a mentor, or even a forgotten children’s book that arrived in a cardboard envelope from some mail-order club, decades ago.

Sometimes, the smallest stories plant the biggest dreams. And sometimes, believing in yourself begins with believing in someone else’s story.

Do you remember a book, a story, or a teacher that quietly nudged you toward the path you’re on now?