My pets, they love me.

Hitler had his dog, Blondi, who loved him. Dearly.

Dr. Claw had his maniacal furry companion, MAD cat.

Somewhere, at this very moment, there is a dog / cat eagerly waiting for their master to walk through the door, toss his keys in the tray (with that familiar clink-klank), reach down and give an affectionate pat on the head … after a long day of child-rapin’.

Whereas we would like to think that our pets are aware and appreciative of the people we are … they could care less if we were a selfless, compassionate veteran school teacher or someone that commits heinous crimes of the sickest nature. As long as they are fed, receive a steady diet of attention and are given a warm bed … your pet will love you back – the center of their world.

Of course, with deeper analysis you can draw the conclusion that pet owners who also happen to be deviants of humanity are far less likely / capable of providing their four legged pal with the items of care listed previously.

That doesn’t mean I’m any less disturbed by the image of a man who happens to enjoy the world of asphyxiophilia to the point that his property is littered with the bones of ill-fated playmates … sitting on his couch, engaged in a loving exchange of affection with his cat, Doodlebear. Pausing only to sip some tea.