It would be great if Brian's dog could be persuaded to write here on the forum how he is being treated, but I'm afraid that's unlikely 
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"This is the diary of Dukie Wood Healy Hankins, car chaser, and all around good pup.
My life started out pretty good, I remember this man they call Brian came and picked me up. It was tough leaving my brothers and sisters, but he had a huge house and a dimwitted good natured manner about him. He bought me lots of kibble, and occasionally gave me hot dogs and SpaghettiOs from his plate. Sometimes a couple of hours after we ate, he'd run to the bathroom and stink up the place. It smelled like blood and guts, and all types of other things. I imagined my ancestors smelled similar when they took down a wounded elk or deer long ago. Sometimes I wished I spoke English instead of barks so I could tell him to go outside and do his business like I do.
There were other nice things, there was a drunk girl that came to visit. She was fun, she'd sit on the couch with a bottle of Jack, and watch Lassie with me. She left after the police came. I'm not sure what they do, but they sure do come around a lot. I think they're like dog catchers for humans. Brian complains that they don't knock a lot.
Then there was my buddy Rocky. Normally my type aren't suppose to like cats, but Rocky was different. He was big, African, and mischievous. And he hated Hankins, that's what he called him, not master, boss, or Brian. He called him Hankins.
Rocky loved to knock Brian's drugs off the counter, and then paw them under the furniture. When he was down there looking for them, Rocky then pounce at Brian's head. Rocky said that patchy fur on Brian's head was the best toy a cat could have.
One day we were by the pool, Brian is always by the pool, I don't understand why he doesn't work, and he threw a ball to Rocky. Rocky ignored him like usually, but I wanted to play so I brought the ball back. Brian started dancing around half nude, yelling, "Dukie can't be faded, Dukie can't be faded. See that Rocky? Dukie can't be faded." I was happy, but Rocky told me he was certain our owner was fag now, not just a fag, but an asshole.
Rocky left soon after that.
I miss my buddy Rocky.
Things were slow, but normal. Brian would sit by the pool, and eat and get high. And then get high and eat. He'd argue with people on the internet, and sometimes he'd leave, and I wouldn't see him for a few days. Like the time he had to go to the vet, and get his pec fixed. He didn't say how that happened, just for me to be careful around bitches and cars.
Then one day it all changed, he'd been arguing all day with the Indians about his Summerboard, whining into the phone about it. Not a bark , growl, or snarl, but a whine. He was angry the whole night, yelling about how many bio-identicals he could've bought with that Summerboard money. Brian was always buying silly shit. I'd gone to my couch to sleep, when Brian came walking over with a jar of peanut butter.......
From that day forward, my days of blissful puppyhood were over."
I imagine an audiobook book version read by Morgan Freeman.
