Let's hear it for the rotts

A "delightful" five-month old baby (who was, no doubt, also an effing genius about to get seventy five A-stars in her GCSEs) gets torn to pieces by a couple of "vicious" rottweilers, presumably because her parents weren't looking after her properly, and all of a sudden a pile of flowers and teddy bears appears outside the pub where it happened. But what about the poor rottweilers? They've been bred to protect, attack, kill, and eat babies, and when they do just that they are savagely put to death, even though they were house trained, always ate up all their dinner, walked to heel, fetched balls and begged when they were told to, never chased sheep, and were about to win hundreds of prizes at Crufts. And has anyone left any flowers for them? Of course they haven't. Have the local pooches been round to weep and wail, or howl, or pee at the scene, or leave a few tins of Chum, or the odd bone or two, or even a smelly ragged slipper? Of course they haven't. They probably haven't even been told what has happened. I'm tempted to pop along myself with a bag of Winalot.
According to the BBC web site, one of the locals has said the dogs were "known to be vicious" and that "whenever you walk past [them] you get the feeling they could jump down and attack you". Bet it never stopped the buggers popping in for a drink.