We're a small, independent product studio that builds warm, useful software for real households — the kind you'd recommend to a neighbor over the fence. Formal name, informal dogs.
We'd rather ship one thing families actually lean on than ten things nobody remembers. Right now, that one thing is:
A meal-planning service that learns how your house actually eats — the picky one, the no-mushrooms rule, the 25-minute weeknights — then plans your week of dinners and writes one shopping list that already knows what's in your pantry.
Every decision at Tuxedo Dog Studios is reviewed by a panel of extremely good dogs. Their feedback is consistent: more snacks, longer walks, ship it.
Audits every recipe for droppability. Maintains a strict open-floor policy.
Big ears, bigger reach. Announces every deploy to the entire neighborhood.
Tests everything by knocking it off the table first. Nothing ships un-sniffed.
Runs the daily standup, which is just standing up very excitedly. It works.
Employment status: honorary. Compensation: competitive, paid in treats. Photos via Unsplash — the humans do the actual typing.
Some dogs are born wearing a tuxedo — black coat, white chest, permanently ready for a dinner party. It's the best kind of formal: zero effort, all heart, always at the table when food shows up.
That's the software we try to make. Dressed up where it counts, completely unfussy about everything else — and reliably there at dinnertime.