Help! My name is Roger, I'm a Jack Russell and I'm a prisoner here! I've been here as long as I can remember. So long, I don't even know what I'm supposed to have done wrong.
The warders torture me every day, taunting me with a rubber ball on the end of a bit of rope. They keep on dangling it in front of my nose until I lose my rag and grab it in my mouth. Then they laugh and pick me up off the ground by the teeth and swing me around. They keep this up until they get tired of it.
The food here is awful. They feed me on pigs ears and old bones along with a daily bowl of foul-smelling, cold, slimey, brown muck out of a tin. It's the same every day. They seem to have an endless supply of this gunge.
My captors make me sleep on the floor in the kitchen on a stained and stinking blanket thing which has never been washed, while they sleep upstairs on soft clean beds. I crept up there once while their backs were turned and fell asleep on a pile of pillows. They went berserk when they found me and I narrowly missed getting kicked all the way down the stairs.
Sometimes they go out for hours and lock me in the house on my own. I can be dying for a pee, but I have to hold it until they come home to let me out in the garden. When this happens, I sometimes hear people walking past outside and I rush to the back gate and rattle it and call out for help, but they just swear at me and hurry on past.
Most days when the fat slobs, my keepers, want a bit of exercise, they tie me to a leather strap and make me drag them to the park. I usually use this opportunity to empty my bowels and would prefer to do it in the bushes, but my captors force me to squat on the grass in full view of everyone. Then they humiliate me further by picking it up and parading it through the streets in a plastic bag. How gross!
Somebody comes to the house each day and pushes letters and papers through a hole in the door. I desparately try to attract their attention by jumping up and grabbing their fingers and shouting at them, but again they just shout abuse and run away.
I think I am doomed to be imprisoned here for the rest of my life. I have heard rumours of others before me being secretly buried in shallow graves at the bottom of the garden.