Would you pleeeease cut it up for me?

I have a little dog.  My baby dog.  His name is Toby.  He's a five pound mixed breed... about 4 lbs longaired chihuahua mixed with a pound of terrier, poodle and Pomeranian.

My little dog doesn't seem to realize that he's a dog... at least not all the time.  He seems to think he's a cat.  (I know. I know.  A disgrace to all dogs everywhere... dogs need not read further)

He purrs...  he sleeps in the sun... he plays with fabric... and he's finicky...  yes, finicky.

You see, my little dog will not eat out of his dish.  He will sit in front of it and whine until someone (usually me) will come over and scoop out a small amount and place it on the floor in front of his dish.  Not only that but when he gets his favourite wet dog food... he will not eat it until someone (usually me) cuts it up for him.  (it comes in a stew like small bite format already).

And so my Toby will  come to where I am, give me those big brown puppy dog eyes that say...
Would you pleeeeease cut it up for me?  And I do.  I'm well trained.

IneedaCoffeenow!