A Sublethal Envenomation: or Did Curiosity Almost Kill the Dog?

[Nuala practises looking serene]

[a close call with nature, close to home]

Our dog Nuala – Noo for short – is getting on a bit. She has a few old age lumps, and is a bit stiff in the joints at times. But overall she’s had a lucky life with a caring family. We’ve helped to transform her from a flighty, insecure, attention-seeker into all-of-the-above with vague pretensions to serenity.

We think she may just have extended that lucky streak.

We were away for the long weekend, and our daughter Heather and her husband were minding the house and dog. Heather noticed that Noo was not very happy on Monday, leaving her food un-eaten (that’s serious!) and seeming very stiff-legged. We found this out when we rang from Campbelltown on the way home, and by the time we got home, Noo was avoiding all attempts to touch her. Instead she slunk off to the privacy of a dark corner.

We thought a tick-bite, a wasp or bee sting, or even a scrap with a rodent may have caused some of the symptoms: that or a more sinister internal problem. The main issue seemed to be her semi-lame back legs. It was too late for the vet, but one of our neighbours is an ex-vet, and she was happy to come and look at the dog.

Nothing obvious sprang to mind until the next morning when our neighbour – displaying exemplary after-care – knocked on the door with her snake bite theory. Minutes before we had discovered a lump on Noo’s muzzle, on the upper lip. Putting two and two together, we agreed it was quite possible that Noo had been bitten by a snake – probably a tiger snake.

Tiger snakes have complex and highly powerful venoms. They contain neurotoxins and necrotoxins (these can cause the kind of muscle weakness/damage Noo was exhibiting) as well as procoagulants (which can interfere with blood clotting and can cause swelling and bleeding). The toxins also cause a sensitivity to light, a possible explanation for her hiding in a dark corner. In many cases with animals internal bleeding, breathing paralysis and kidney failure can lead to death. The only good news is that tiger snakes are not very efficient at delivering their venom. They rely on grasping their prey in their mouth while the venom oozes from their backward-facing fangs rather than being injected quickly into their victim. It works particularly well on rodents and similar small prey.

But that morning Noo was quite chirpy – and our neighbour ended up calling it a “sublethal envenomation”. To the rest of us that means the bite – if snake bite it was – hadn’t killed Noo! So she’s lived to stick her snout in another day. We just hope the snake has decided to move on and stick to disposing of rodents instead of harassing serene old ladies.

Back to Cradle

[Savouring the summit of Cradle Mountain, Tasmania]

Recently I returned to the summit of Cradle Mountain. It was partly in the spirit of getting back on my horse, although the proverbial dog returning to his vomit could be another way of looking at it.

Last October I fell off the mountain. Or at least I slipped and fell off a part of the mountain, somersaulting backwards down a snowy chute for a few frightening seconds. You can read about it here http://auntyscuttle.blogspot.com/2009/10/cradled.html

But March is a very different time of the year to October. I often tell visitors that autumn is Tasmania’s most reliable season. So the plan to spend the March long weekend at Cradle Mountain with my wife Lynne and some of my mainland family looked good on paper. That was until a rogue low pressure trough began slouching across Bass Strait towards us. It looked as though card games, eating and reading might be our only forms of exercise.

But you’ve gotta love the fact that Tassie is a relatively small meteorological target. I’ve seen cold fronts mysteriously slip beneath the island, or just softly caress the south-west, and leave the populated parts basking. And ugly low pressure systems can sometimes wobble dangerously off the east coast, yet hardly land a precipitative punch.

This time the trough decided to linger over the flesh-pots of Melbourne, deluging the Victorian capital, denting it with golf ball-sized hail, and even stopping several sporting events (no mean feat in sports-mad Melbourne). In contrast the day that Lynne and I planned to climb Cradle stayed clear, warm and sunny.

Marions Lookout has to be climbed first, and there’s no way around it being sharp and steep. It’s good training for what’s to come once you amble across the plateau, past Kitchen Hut, and reach the face of Cradle itself. There’s no ambling after that – just one foot in front of the other, until it becomes one foot and one hand in front of the other.

I’m always in two or three minds when it comes to telling a first-timer what a walk or climb is like. Is it really helpful to tut, tssk and mutter things like “you ain’t seen nothin’ yet” as they gasp and pant and beg for a stop? On the other hand, will your memory of the walk be at all accurate? In my experience, the answer is “rarely”. Time, rose-coloured glasses, and neuronal glitches often combine to make my memory hazy.

In this case, however, it had only been 5 months since my last ascent. And I had plenty of reasons to remember it vividly! Fortunately Lynne was feeling particularly determined, and my hints of dire boulder scrambling ahead didn’t dent her confidence. She was more interested in seeing where I had fallen – and so was I!

The absence of snow made the site of the fall both more and less dramatic. More, because the chute looked even steeper without its cushion of snow. Less, because the snow had been intimidatingly deep. We paused for the obligatory “here’s where you nearly lost me” photo, and then it was another couple of hundred metres of scrambling before we could celebrate summiting the lovely Cradle Mountain. For me it was ascent no. 5 (or is it 6); for Lynne it was a first. Her eyes bagan to water, I must report. And why not? It was a significant ascent for someone who had so often stayed behind looking after children while I was off on mountain tops.

We topped off a superb morning by having lunch, and then finding a quiet spot to simply lie down and soak up the wonder of it all. It was a much gentler surrender to gravity than last October. It was good to be back.

The Cake Policy

[Something lighter ... here are some extracts from my workplace's Cake Policy, which I had a hand in developing. Every tea room needs one! Please feel free to use and adapt for your own place of work.]

A Workplace Cake Policy

Preamble

“Let them eat cake” (Marie Antoinette)

“Man shall not live by bread alone.” (Jesus)

There are undeniable differences between these sayings of Marie Antoinette and Jesus of Nazareth. But regardless of those temporal and thematic disparities, both clearly envisaged that cake, and all that it represents, should be a part of how we live.

For what is a cake but a confectionary embodiment of the celebration of life, its highs and its lows? And also of the need to bring joy, and sometimes reparation, into the daily lives of those around us. The untimely executions of the two persons above quoted should in no way discourage us from following their culinary examples. Let us laugh in the face of our own metaphorical grim-reapers, and bring on the cakes!

Mission Statement
To embrace the concept of ‘cakeable happenings’ and ‘cakeable offences’ and provide a regular supply of comestibles to foster communication and general bonhomie amongst [workplace name] ‘cakeholders’*.

The Cake Policy Proper

A person who has committed, taken part in, been subject to, or undergone a ‘cakable happening’ or ‘cakeable offence’ is required to provide a comestible (preferably cake) for morning tea. Should said ‘cake-ee’ renege, forget or otherwise appear to ‘evade the cake issue’, inordinately rude and unchivalrous derision shall be visited upon them, and another, grander cake will be required the next working day. With some ‘recalcitrant cake-ees’ the compounding effect of missing too many cake days has been such that on retirement they have had to hold a slap-up banquet for the whole workplace as a way of making amends – don’t let this happen to you!

P.S. No cheating for weekends, public holidays, and/or leave either, it carries over till the next working day.

Interpretation
Interpretation of the policy is based on common law (the commonly held view of cakeholders*) and precedence (evolving custom). More technically we may refer to Section (II) of the policy as Tarts for Torts – a tort being “the branch of law concerned with civil injuries and their remedies” (Macquarie Dictionary).

Any aggrieved cake-ee who feels they have been unfairly caked, can take their grievance to a ‘cake moot’. A gathering of cakeholders that will be held the following day between 10:30 and 11:00 am. Be warned, however, that such cake moots do have an unsavoury predisposition towards doubling or trebling the penalty unless the grievance is extremely funny.

* A cakeholder is deemed to be anyone who turns up in the tea room between (but not limited to) the hours of 10:00 and 11:00am with a fulsome and hearty desire to ingest a comestible.

Section (I) – Cakeable Happenings
These include, but are not limited to the following clauses:
1. birthdays;
2. an addition to the cake-ee’s family (baby, cat, dog, other being of emotional focus and social and fiscal responsibility, such as a Land Rover);
3. having one’s name, photo, project mentioned in the media (television/paper/radio or other electronic media) on occasions other than advertisements and public notices;
Sub-clause 3.a – it may be necessary to establish a Special Cake Offence Feeding Fund (SCOFF) for high profile projects;
4. commitment ceremony, marriage, shacking up together etc;
5. settlement of a significant acquisition such as a house, a boat, a car or the like (excluding Land Rovers – refer Section I, Clause 2);
6. commencement, return or leaving (wilfully or otherwise);
7. promotion, reclassification, contract extension, granting of permanency;
8. receipt of an award/prize or other such acknowledgment;
9. major achievement such as a degree or other such qualification; publication of a report, paper, etc;
10. the taking of long service leave of greater than 2 months duration; and
11. in the case of the taking of extra long leave (i.e. death) the cake-ee’s progeny are released from any standing cakeable events and offences incurred by the deceased. However, deceased cake-ee’s are encouraged, through whatever good graces may be available to them in their new plane of existence to attempt to materialise the odd cup cake or lamington - particularly around Halloween - for old times sake.

Section (II) – Cakeable Offences
These include, but are not limited to the following clauses:
1. tearoom telephonic transgressions, ie mobile phone calls. The phonee whose phone emanates an audible noise or a noticed vibration shall be deemed to be caked;
Sub-clause 1.a – mobile telephonic trangressions in situations other than the tearoom may also be deemed cakeable if sufficient embarassment and disruption ensues. (Examples may include during a public presentation or while the Minister is being interviewed.)
2. tearoom talk transgressions, ie discussion of work in the tearoom. On the rare occasion that such discussions are consensual, that is approved of by all potential caker-holders present, the behaviour is deemed exempt. However, should someone new enter the tearoom, a new agreement must be negotiated. Where agreement cannot be reached, any person continuing work-related discussion could be called to account (‘caked’) for transgressing the terms of the policy stated herein;
3. being caught speeding (receiving a fine) in a work vehicle;
4. having an accident in a work vehicle. An exemption will be granted where the river is physically injured necessitating medical intervention. However, a consultation for precautionary documentation and recording of events does not exempt potential cakees;
5. being caught placing work-related literature on the tearoom table noticeboard acceptable);
6. having to be ‘rescued’ from being bogged, reported lost and the like;
Subclause 6a – helicopter rescues count double, with exemptions only as per Section II: Clause 4; and
7. the General Manager receiving correspondence regarding driving expertise or general behaviour.