Animals – Page 4 – Disco Knitter

All about the cows

So the plan was to eat some cow. But I’ve stalled, due to the lack of a dining companion, and a restaurant that is open on a day when I have no child.

Mumu is Crows Nest used to be open on a Tuesday, I’m sure, but when I went there yesterday they were closed. Fe couldn’t make it, but promises to be with me next week. But now I can’t find a restaurant that sells grass/pasture fed beef and is open on a Tuesday.

Here is an article from the SMH about the differences in producing different bits of cow. In case anyone is interested in why I insist on grass fed cow.

Heavy Metal

Or Iron continued….

I’ve found (through the ABA mafia) an excellent dietitian that is going to help me negotiate this minefield. Apparently, humans are born with at specific transporter in the gut for haem (blood based) iron, and that eating vegetable sources of iron metabolises in a completely different way. So this means that eating meat will boost my iron levels in combination with and complementing my iron supplements. Which is actually much better news than I was expecting, and she is going to guide me in eating the right amount to get me out of this situation without going overboard. She is also going to look at my overall diet, and make sure I keep a good balance – useful for someone who hasn’t eaten red meat in a long time. I’ve also got to make sure I’m still taking care of Inigo and Mark’s dietary needs too.

I was going to respond to the comments on the previous post in the comments section, but it got unwieldy, so here we are.

Thanks everyone!

Ali – I remember having a bit of tandoori chicken about 8 years ago, it it came back up rather violently. I shall heed your sage words of warning!

Steph – I cannot tell you how much I appreciate having an econometrician (did I spell that right?) in my life. I shall be consulting you for the spreadsheet, flow chart and venn diagram of my next decision 🙂

Emma – I am still unable to walk into a butcher shop, so I am doing my research on the internets (of course). I am unable to look into the meat cabinet at Woolworths, so talking to a butcher might actually explode my brain. Also, I don’t think I could cook meat in the house – the bunnies, who are very sensitive people, freak out at meat cooking smells, and I don’t think it’s fair to make Mark and Inigo live with it either. But restaurants – that is another question entirely 🙂

Min – After about a decade of vegetarianism (though still loving the taste of meat), I have found that I can salivate at the idea of salami, (or pate, or bacon, etc.), but when it comes to the crunch, the thought of actually eating said delicacy actually turns my stomach. So while I like the idea of pate, I looked at it in the supermarket today, and read the ingredients, and as soon as I read “animal and vegetable oils”, the magic was gone. And I know I can’t eat a factory famed duck liver. And I still kind of hold on to the idea that if I am prepared to eat an animal, I ought to be prepared to kill it. I reckon I could kill a cow (with years of therapy), to save myself and my child, but I am still doubtful about killing a chicken or a duck. But then, I am a weirdo.

Ginevra – you’re right. And it’s such a cliche, but I don’t think there is anything else on this planet that could convince me to do this, except that little guy.

Fe – thanks for your support. Nothing like going carnivorous with an ex vegan for company!

Heavy thoughts

So. The vegetarian/iron deficient thing.

I’m vegetarian because I think that in our society (and most of the industrialised world – and growing parts of the developing world), factory farming and the cruelty that is inherent in them is not something I can conscience. I always thought that if I was marooned on a desert island with nothing to eat but a cow, I’d totally be apologising to the cow, and then eating it.

It basically came down to the fact that I have the luxury of choosing what I eat, and I have the luxury of being able to provide healthy alternatives for my family. I also had the luxury of good health.

Since being anemic, I’ve actually been concerned about my ability to care for Inigo properly. And today, I had a real scare. We were in a park, about 200m from the car park. I was sitting down chatting with some mums from playgroup (playgroup has ended for the year, so we are catching up informally just for something to do). Inigo was playing happily close by for quite a while, but after an hour or so, he started to wander further and further afield. I was comfortable that he wouldn’t go too far, but of course, eventually, he did. I got up to grab him, and he started running. I sped up, but felt like I was likely to collapse at every step. I literally could not run. I couldn’t run to save my child, who was running headlong into a carpark. I went as fast as I could, and I caught him in a disabled parking spot, just inside the carpark. Thank goodness there were no moving cars at the time, but that did nothing to calm me down. It was all I could do just to carry him back to the picnic blanket without crying hysterically.

So yes, I am feeling better. Much, much better than I was at my worst. But I’ve decided that right now I can’t afford the luxury of refusing to eat meat. I can still make ethical choices, and next Tuesday, I am going here, and I am going to eat a steak. Anyone want to join me? Fe, I am looking at you!

But I’m still going to think of myself as a vegetarian. And when my iron levels normalise, I will be again. But for now, I need to protect my family, and apologise to the cow later.

And one more thing. I read this today, and am reminded of how special the ability to give blood is. What a difference it can make to a life, to someone you’ll probably never know. And what I found out last time I gave blood, that makes my blood extra special.

The big and heavy question – should I eat animals so I can save lives? Or do I think too much? Or is it just normal to think about the big picture just after a cancer scare?

So, readers, lurkers especially, what do you think? Self indulgent pap, or good sense?

Oh – and P.S. Fe asked if this meant that I will become “a meat eater” again, and I thought about it. But my touchstone is Inigo. I wouldn’t want him to see me eating meat, and I wouldn’t want him eating meat until he is old enough to make the choice for himself. So no, this is just for now, until my iron levels normalise.

I am special after all!

I gave blood again on Tuesday (that’s 4 times in one year!), and was chatting with the nurse about the various tests they conduct on the blood prior to using it. She said that my I have to have a special test every time I give blood because I am not a carrier of the CMV virus, and about 95-97% of the population is. If you have had this virus, your blood cannot be given to newborn babies, and anyone who is not infected already, particularly pregnant women and transplant patients.

So every time I donate, they test to see whether or not I have been infected with CMV since my last donation, and if not, my blood can be given to sick neonates.

And to my ex-boyfriend who once told me not to be so precious – stuff you. I am precious.

Now, if you need a really cute story with a really cute picture to brighten your day, click here. Thanks to Andrew for the link 🙂

Vale Daisy

The vet came over this afternoon, and Daisy passed peacefully, on my lap, with a belly full of his favourite food, bonito flakes.

We buried him under a lemon tree, perfect for my gorgeous sour puss.

Thank you for all your kind comments.

Daisy the Wonder Cat

Daisy is in kidney failure, caused by lymphoma. The vet is coming over tomorrow so that we can say our final goodbye in a safe and comfortable place.

Daisy turned 15 in August, and has been with me since he was 8 weeks old. There is no easy way to say goodbye to such a wonderful friend. I had been hoping that he would make it until just before we went away, but it is not to be. The house will seem lonely without his constant snarls, piles of vomit, and the occasional poo in odd places just to keep us in line.

Context

Baby in the drivers seat

Cat on laptop

Daisy is HOME!

The vet rang to say that overnight he had peed normally, with no more blood loss, and that he was ok to come home. We picked him up as soon as they said he could go, and he is now at home, safe and comfy in the laundry (so I can keep an eye on his poos, and whinging for food. The vet said that he shouldn’t eat until this evening, so I’m taking it as a great sign.

Daisy, my old mate

Daisy will be 15 on the first of August. That’s pretty old for a cat these days – apparently 10 is considered geriatric now. And on Sunday when we got home from the conference, he wasn’t well. There was vomit and poo in piles around the house, and he was yowling and looking very unhappy.

I got him to the vet first thing yesterday, and had an anxious wait while they conducted tests. I was told that in a cat his age, it was most likely to be cancer, or kidney disease. Daisy has been a staunch friend for every one of his 15 years with me, and hearing that he was in such bad shape was a horrible shock. Sure, he’s old, and he has slowed down considerably in the last few years, but previous vet checks have always shown him to be in good health.

The call came, good news and bad news. It’s a condition called Mega Colon, his colon has degraded and become like a large bag instead of a sausage shape, and he was having trouble pooing. His system was so backed up that he couldn’t keep food down. The vet recommended surgery to clear the blockage, and then medication for the rest of his life, with the possibility of this happening again and needing surgery again. She hadn’t given him pain relief, since she was hoping that I would consent to the surgery, and she couldn’t give him pain relief before surgery.

So I had to decide quickly, whether to spend about $1500 and hope that he survived the surgery and had good quality of life, or whether to have him put down by a stranger.

We’ve had to borrow the money (thanks mum!), and he’s had the surgery. While he was under, he started pissing fresh blood, and the vet doesn’t know why, so we have that to sort out too, but for now he is comfortable and doing well. We’ll be able to visit this afternoon.

Please spare a thought for my grumpy old cat.

Fake Pelicans

A million years ago, when I was working on Babe: Pig in the City , I walked into the huge studio at Fox for my first night on the job, and saw a giant animatronic pelican. The special effects unit was working nights, because the main unit was, and George Miller wanted everyone working on the same shifts. A microwave link was set up between main unit, second unit, and I think also the edit suite. If main unit was on night shoots, so were the rest of us. Anyone who has worked nights will tell you that the first night shift is a strange thing. You tried to stay up late the night before, you tried to sleep in and do nothing all day so that you could make it through the night, and you turn up for work and can’t stop yawning. Add to that the nervousness of working on such a huge scale, with a new crew that you don’t know, and it’s nerve-wracking. So under the circumstances, the pelican was a bit of a shock. It was big, it was feathered, it had a huge leathery bill, and bright yellow rimmed eyes. It was the fakest fake thing I had ever seen. It was surrounded by a team of puppeteers, tweaking each little movement, trying to make the flying motion look like a real pelican. Good luck, I thought, and wandered off to find the camera truck. Some months later, on another job, I was at Sea World on the Gold Coast, where they have a pelican rehabilitation facility. I was lucky enough to stand about three feet away from a real, live, actual pelican. Amazing, I thought. It looks just like an animatronic pelican. Inigo sees a pelican for the first time Waves! Much less scary than they were last time we were at the beach on his birthday Everything is less scary when daddy is around Buried in sand Fun, despite the taste The end

Babe: Pig In The City (Theatrical Trailer) Unedited Uploaded by NakedBrotha2007

A million years ago, when I was working on Babe: Pig in the City, I walked into the huge studio at Fox for my first night on the job, and saw a giant animatronic pelican.

The special effects unit was working nights, because the main unit was, and George Miller wanted everyone working on the same shifts. A microwave link was set up between main unit, second unit, and I think also the edit suite. If main unit was on night shoots, so were the rest of us.

Anyone who has worked nights will tell you that the first night shift is a strange thing. You tried to stay up late the night before, you tried to sleep in and do nothing all day so that you could make it through the night, and you turn up for work and can’t stop yawning. Add to that the nervousness of working on such a huge scale, with a new crew that you don’t know, and it’s nerve-wracking.

So under the circumstances, the pelican was a bit of a shock. It was big, it was feathered, it had a huge leathery bill, and bright yellow rimmed eyes. It was the fakest fake thing I had ever seen. It was surrounded by a team of puppeteers, tweaking each little movement, trying to make the flying motion look like a real pelican. Good luck, I thought, and wandered off to find the camera truck.

Some months later, on another job, I was at Sea World on the Gold Coast, where they have a pelican rehabilitation facility. I was lucky enough to stand about three feet away from a real, live, actual pelican.

Amazing, I thought. It looks just like an animatronic pelican.

Inigo sees a pelican for the first time

Waves!

Much less scary than they were last time we were at the beach on his birthday

Everything is less scary when daddy is around

Buried in sand

Fun, despite the taste

The end