My wife comes home from a tough day at the office and is playfully attacked by our two schnauzer puppies. She calls them her “Puperazzi;” comprised of Tinker and Tally, along with Frankie the cat patiently awaiting her turn in the greeting line. Tinker wants food, while Tally wants attention, acting like they’ve been totally deprived and ignored all day long. Granted, I’m no natural “pet lover,” but I’ve evolved in retirement to be their chief care giver when “Mom” is at work.

Tally will run to the door in anticipation as soon as she hears her car come up the street. Tinker, who’s hearing isn’t as sharp anymore, will start her incessant barking, and Frankie will come out of her hiding spot to see what is going on at the back door. My wife is thrilled to see them, and they’ll lead her to the refrigerator. I try to give them a few minutes to calm down before I fill their bowls, but Tinker is starving and will follow me like a shadow while I first attend to Frankie’s dinner. Age before Beauty! Tally will try to draw my wife’s attention by rolling over on her back with her raised paws in a cute pose, yearning for a “Tummy Attack.” If I even attempt to tend to her pleading eyes, Tinker gets upset and Tally seems disappointed that it’s only me doing the rubbing. I can just hear her saying, “you’ve been here all day, so if I wanted you to do this I would have performed earlier.” At the same time, Tinker is always wondering if I forgot to feed her.

The “Puperazzi” are really the “Schnauzerazzi,” a group of devoted pets without cameras. I wish it could be said that “I am nothing but chopped liver.” If that were the case, I too would be lovingly devoured. My wife doesn’t even need to wear “meat perfume,” to get covered in affectionate kisses and slathered with wet tongues. I can’t even get close to the action. Even Frankie begins to “Meow” after a day of quietly lounging on our bed. Once everyone is fed, it is then my thankless job to take them outside, where they just can’t wait to get back to her side by the couch. Tally wants to be petted, while Tinker is restless for a piece of whatever we’re eating. Tally also likes to warm herself by the fire, hoping for more admiration of her supreme cuteness. She is truly a pet that needs to be endlessly pampered – but only by the right person – guess who?

Tinker likes to go to sleep with us on the bed, but needs to be lifted anymore. By morning, she’s on the floor carefully positioned so I will trip over her in the dark. Tally will not get in our bed without a lot of coaxing and only rarely when I’m under the covers. This is another tribute to her master, but she prefers to sleep by herself on her couch surrounded by pillows. She growls if Tinker or Frankie gets anywhere close to her overnight domain. Actually, it’s a couch that we once tried to donate to the Salvation Army, but it was worn beyond their standards. Tally made it hers when she chewed the corners of the cushions back when she was a teething pup that we called “The Tally Monster,” or sometimes “The Tallygator.” (See Post and Poem #77). We’ve hauled it from Illinois to Texas to Oregon for her exclusive use these past nine years. Tinker, on the other hand, will not sleep in any of her beds and sometimes prefers the cooler wooden floors. The entire “Puperazzi” fan club does not typically stir all night until my wife’s alarm goes off for the second time. They are good sleepers, resting up for that big surge of activity when she finally gets home from work.