"Why are you sitting on the roof of the garage?" the Formidable Companion asked.
"Trying to keep the alligators at an arm's length," we said.
She fixed us with a stare. Some explanation was clearly in order.
"Haven't you looked around, lately?" we said. "The world is going to h-e-double-hockey-sticks in a handbasket."
"Always has, always will be," she said.
She was going to have to do better than that. We told her about Mr. Turner, our next-door neighbor, sicking his pet on us that very morning. That was the last straw.
"But it's a cat," she said.
"Not just a cat," we said. "A 17-pound irate tabby."
"Come down now," she said.
We told her to send up our easy chair. We were going to be here for a while.