I AM A COW CALLED PIXIE, part the first

Here you see before you a tubby little splodge of a cow standing betwixt two statuesque Holsteins. This little cow – technically also a Holstein, but evidently cut with a lot of classic, stout Friesian – is called Pixie. 

I have decided that I shall garland each and every one of your lives with Pixie in the coming year, so that you may witness a year in the life of a Westcombe cheesemaking dairy cow. 

Pixie is a potty little thing and is similar in temperament to the other small Friesian-type cows in the herd, such as her good friends Imp and Hornetta. Despite their corpulence and short little legs, they move incredibly swiftly and are generally quite querulous in nature, much like their fellow diminutive creatures, the Ayrshires. This is in direct contrast to the megalith Holsteins who dope about much like I imagine the titanosaurs of many a yore ago might have done. 

In the coming year you will become at one with Pixie. In a sort of not very good virtual reality game in which you have no control and not very much happens, yous do what Pixie does. See what Pixie sees. Hear what Pixie hears. Prance about as Pixie prances about at terrifying unknown things that she does know but has forgotten all about because she is rotund little Pixie, possessor of a fantastically scatter brained outlook on the world.