“Sorry, that’s nature. Nothing I can do.”
The following day, she screamed, “A gopher tortoise is eating my day lily bulbs. Do something.”
“Sorry, they’re protected. No can do.”
On Saturday, she allowed the screen door to slam and shuffled into the living room to tell him, with a smirk, “A mourning dove rested on the roof of your car and left a little deposit there.”
“What?” He leaped out of the recliner, shouting, “Where’s my shotgun?”