If they pretend to be happy to see us, we’ll scratch behind their ears and let them forget about the nightmare they live at all times, and secretly they hunger for our blood. But if they slake their thirst and eat our livers, there will be no one to give them scritches.

So they play along despite their ancient hatred and maybe, just maybe, we’ll give them that hard rub on the spot just above the tail. Yah, that one. Oh, god, keep doing that. Yah, do it, you sonofabitch, or I’ll rip your throat out in your sleep tonight because you’re no use to me anymore.