My grandson Ricky stalled in his track across the kitchen. His eyes darting left and right. You could see the thought process in his head. “Where is she?” It wasn’t Granny he was looking for, only a cow in the kitchen. He was glued to the spot on the floor. I caught his little hand and steered him towards the office; every step a struggle. His big eyes opened wide when he spotted the cow on the computer screen. That he could handle. He resumed his trot, hands outstretched to his grandad, Tim, who was attending the (online) draft sale of surplus dairy stock on a local dairy farm. I was dropping in and out in the comfort of our own home.