When I think of Magoo, I hope I always remember him running down the hill to our house, his fluffy hair bouncing, his little McQueen-crocked feet pumping like bolts of red rubber lightning. I violated my rule of not buying “character” clothes when I saw the look on his face at the shoe store.
They were like the air to him.
It was a good decision.
I never had his baby shoes bronzed. Maybe I’ll do these.
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