Maggie, although you are not mine, I have loved you like my own. Therefore, when I try to step over the baby gate that keeps Mia in the kitchen, do not jump under me. Even if you have to pee really, really bad. You see, then I have to move my foot- the one that should be supporting my weight- to avoid crushing you to death. Then I hit the ground like a pile of gangly bricks. Face first. Then I lay on the carpet cursing you. And wondering why the ground shook like that when I made contact. Or what would have happened if I’d hurt myself and been alone. Or what on God’s green earth could have made that stain I’d never noticed on the carpet. And NONE of these are good places to go.  


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