My people go into the deep

Sometimes these days mum and dad go into the water, then they don't come up. They just make the water go blub-blub-blub, then quiet. I wait and wait, then give them up for dead, roam up the ramp of the dock and poo somewhere they don't want me to poo. Ha. That's what you get for leaving me above the surface. Then later, when I'm starting to miss them, they pop up through the waves again, start peeling off all sorts of heavy and stinky things, shoo-shooing me out of the way.
Mum seems to be enjoying these watery excursions considerably less than Dad. She has a faint pong of panic about her.
They went out in the boat this weekend and did something called a Wreck Dive. First, Dad went with his friends, then just this past weekend he dragged mum. Mum feels obliged because she's always cajoling Dad into doing lovely fun arduous things on land. This is his get-even.
They went here (although this is someone else's video--I didn't film this. I wasn't invited.) 
Who cares what you can see under the surface. As far as I'm concerned, it can't be anything very important. I personally have lost at least two tennis balls in the bay and I have yet to see one of those resurface.
I know what a Wreck Dive is. That's getting on the couch when no one is around, then pouncing on things and breaking them.