While I was away at school (read Haunted Dorm at Eastern Michigan University), my mom took care of my little Yorkie, Lily Sue. Lily was a couple months old, weighing two pounds. When my mom left for work in the morning she made sure to place a gate at the end of the kitchen and the beginning of the hallway, where a potty pad was also in place, as well as Lily's food, water, and her favorite toys (socks, to be perfectly honest), and this worked just fine for months.
Lily's gate was also placed directly under the handle to the attic door, which basically hangs from the ceiling. My dad is the only one in the house who can reach it, but he worked an entirely different shift than my mom. One evening, maybe twenty minutes after my mom returned home from work, she scooped Lily up in her arms and took her outside with her while she smoked a cigarette. As soon as the screen door shut, she heard a loud thud. She ran into the house immediately to find that a large, heavy tote full of old family portraits had fallen onto Lily's potty pad, where both of them had been just seconds before.
Of course the tote had fallen out of the attic, but the attic also latches into the ceiling. One must grab the handle to unlatch the door, and then pull down the ladder in order to gain access into our attic. The most important detail, in my opinion, is that this tote was pushed the farthest back from the door- so far, in fact, that it was slightly hidden in the floor insulation, behind OTHER totes.
All of the glass was shattered, the frames broken, and the family portraits were strewn about the kitchen floor.