A Conversation between Wrigley and Riptide...and a little Reba too.

This is what I heard last night. I swear. 

Hey. Hey Riptide. She got the bag out.
Bag? What bag? Wrigley, who are you talking about?
I'm talking about HER. The lady that lets us chase frisbees and bark and counter surf.
She doesn't 'let' us counter surf. You just do it. Even though she yells NO! and shakes a can and has threatened to get the spray bottle.
How can I not try? There is so much good stuff up there. It's almost as good as the garbage can...wait! The bag! I was talking about the bag! Dude, don't distract me!
Like either of you need help with that.
Shush Reba. Us dudes are having a conversation.
Ha! I'll leave you alone. I have feet to lick anyway.
Don't go Reba! She never wants to hang out with us unless we have a toy or a bone. Why do you think that is Wrigley?
I think it is because she is envious of our awesomeness...wait! Focus Riptide! The bag! Focus on the bag! She only put shoes in it tonight, but they are athletic shoes. That means flyball right????
Athletic shoes?
Yes! Athletic shoes.

Athletic? That's a big word Wrigley.
No it's not.
Well I think it is.
Riptide, athletic is not a big word.
'Riptide, athletic is not a big word.' geeesh. Border collies.
Back to the bag with GYM shoes in it. Is that better?
Much.
Why else would she put GYM shoes in the bag? It's gotta mean flyball.
Maybe she is going on an exercise vacation...without you.
Reba! Go lick something.
Yeah. Go lick something. And she hates exercise.
You boys are so clueless. Of course it means we are going on a flyball trip.
But Reba, how can you be sure?
Really Wrigley? Really Riptide? Does she ever pack a bag for anything else?