Jail?

Okay, I am not pretty sure this is jail. What crime I committed, I do not know.

I can't dig holes here, clean the sink, sniff and groom Sabrina (sorry Gisela!), chew on the furniture or bark to annoy the neighbors. Sigh. I shall plot to be returned home. Brogan has filled me in on how he refused to eat (can you believe that?) the last time that he was here. It resulted in him earning an early parole. I am remembering how my poop strike did not work when I stayed with Uncle John. I can try it here but somehow I don't think it will matter. These humans look experienced in dealing with dogs.

How sad can I make these big brown eyes look?