“Cutie Care” does not just apply to manicures and pedicures, it is all about the feeding and nurturing of our precious pets. My wife is much better at this than I am, and it’s why they crave her attention. I can be here all day long with them without as much as a stir, except when it’s time to go outside or I approach the refrigerator. However, when my wife comes home for work, they practically mob her at the door. She gets what she claims to be “ear kisses and nose bops,” while I wait patiently for my turn.

Without giving her too much credit in the “cutie care” department, she does get home at feeding time, so some of their excitement is about food. However, our youngest schnauzer Tally will roll over on her back and expose her belly for a “Tummy Attack.” She rarely does this for me. She also typically greets my wife at the door with a stuffed toy. Tally has gotten in trouble for being too aggressive with her nose bops, so the toy helps cushion her enthusiasm when jumping-up for a lick to the face as you bend-down to pet her. She also seems to need my wife’s approval before she eats, and responds to “Yummy Tummy.” It’s all silly baby-talk to me.

Our hundred year old schnauzer Tinker never needs encouragement to eat. This is why she’s known as “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet.” She’ll finish the food in her bowl, slowly sneak towards Tally’s dish, and would steal it all if we didn’t supervise. Tinker is usually finished eating before we finally coax Tally to eat the first bite. We’ll bang on the side of her bowl and tell her how good it is, keeping one eye on Tinker’s movements. Not surprisingly, every time we go to the Vet, Tinker always weighs a little more. With every year older she also somehow gets hungrier, and gobbles down every bite like it’s her last meal. Don’t get your fingers in the way! Tally, on the other hand, likes to savor her food, and this can be costly around greedy Tinker.

As soon as it gets to be 5 o’clock, Tinker’s built-in clock tells her that “mom” will be home soon and dinner will then be served. It’s this association that causes her to bark relentlessly in anticipation of arrival. All our pets can hear my wife’s sports car come up the street and the garage door open; it’s their cue to line-up at the back door and wait for “Cutie Care.” After the ceremonies, Tinker then rushes to the kitchen and waits, keeping one eye on her bowl and the other on the refrigerator. She’s also my wife’s sous-chef, always at her side in the kitchen, hoping to taste anything she’s preparing. Tally remains unimpressed with food and stays in the background until she’s called. She’s usually on our bed or in “good bed” patiently waiting to eat, while her older sister simply can’t get enough.

Tally relishes “Cutie Care” and plays the role perfectly, putting her best “cute” forward. Tinker would rather just eat but knows that acting “cute” will earn her more dining rewards. Frankie our cat begins to prowl just before her scheduled feeding times. As the “Senior Cutie” at 18 years old, she knows the routine and rarely ventures out of our bedroom, unless there’s a feeding frenzy in the kitchen. She does not like to be left out and let’s us know with a mournful “meow.” She does not give me any credit for cleaning her litter box every day. Lately, she’s also been avoiding me because of the medication I have to force down her throat.

On the “Cutie Rating Scale,” I rank a distant last in our family. I also usually do the dirty work, putting my wife on an even higher scale of adoration. I take our pets to the vet, accompany them on walks, clean up after them, and do most of the yelling. This leaves the “Cutie Care” primarily in my wife’s capable hands. It makes her feel welcome as she comes in the door from a hard day’s work, and gives me something constructive to do in retirement. It’s just too bad I don’t qualify for “Cutie Care.”