Lucy: You’re the weirdest sleeper.
B.B.: How so?
Lucy: Look at you guarding that ball. You’re so territorial. And you aren’t even a guy.
B.B.: It’s a Clumber thing.
L: And what’s with the one eye – literally – on the water bowl?
B.B.: There’s a drought. I’m protecting our resources. You should thank me.
B: See there? Normal dog sleep. Just like you.
L: You bogarted my blanket.
L: You’re the bitch.
B: So, I’m gonna catch a power nap. You got the wall?
L: Roger that. You want me on that wall. You need me on that wall.
B: Nicholson again? Really?
L: What’s up with you?
B: I can’t seem to hold my head up this morning.
L: Long night?
B: I dreamt Clint Eastwood kept telling me to go eff myself when all I wanted was a new rawhide bone.
L: I hate that dream.
L: Look at this! See? I told you he likes me best.
B: Don’t kid yourself. I’m just too big to lie in his lap like some kind of tummy rub ho.
L: I am NOT a tummy rub ho!
B: Oh, you’re a ho, alright.
B: Great Scotties! What have you been eating?
L: Same stuff as you. Why?
B: Your flatulence flabbergasts.
L: Nobody asked you to lie at my feet.
B: Your feet aren’t the problem.
L: Don’t be such a bitch.
B: But, I am a bitch. Just like you, Ms. Windy City.
L: Psst. Meet me at the computer in five minutes.
B: What’s up?
L: Prince Harry’s naked on TMZ.
B: Bow chicka wow wow!!
L: I know. Right?
B: What’s the matter?
L: I dunno. Feeling a little down. Exhausted. Emotional.
B: Maybe you’re getting your period.
L: We’ve been spayed, you idiot.