Before sitting down to write this column, I fed my cat.

And even though I was planning to write about how people talk baby talk to their pets, even though I was about to make fun of our national secret, even knowing all that, here is a more-or-less true approximation of the words that came out of my mouth:

“Awwww, are you hungry, little boo-boo? Yessir, here’s little boo-boo’s breakfast. Ooooh, yummy. Tuna! Boo-boo’s favorite! Look at this yummy breakfast for Mama’s little boo-boo.”

OK, I know: You’re laughing. Or you’re snorting in disgust.

Because, of course, you don’t talk to your pet that way. Nope. Not you.

Well, I’ve got news for us all, my friends. Everybody baby talks to their pets. Everyone. It may happen only in private, it may be something we’d never admit — but we do it. Every last besotted one of us. We adore our pets, and we speak to them like they’re ... well, our babies.

How do I know this? I have researched the matter, using highly scientific instruments: my ears. I’ve listened as teenagers who are normally too cool to acknowledge their parents’ existence break into rapid-fire baby talk around the family’s aging Lab. I have heard a CEO speak sugar to a cockatiel, while the bird perched on his shoulder. I’ve witnessed a cranky grandpa get down on his hands and knees so he could sweet-talk an aloof feline.

My husband has baby talked to every animal we’ve ever owned. Poor guy. He probably picked up the habit from me. If his fantasy-football-gambling-beer-drinking-lawn-mowing buddies knew this shameful secret, they’d boot him from their fraternity. I mean, for sure! Manhood is at stake here.

Years ago, we were having some home remodeling done. The work crew had a habit of arriving early every day. One morning my husband started out the back door, looking for our two dogs, calling them in his usual manner, a high-pitched falsetto chant of their names.

“SophieandSaraandSaraandSophieandSophieandSara. …”

Listening from the kitchen, I heard his voice break off into a strangled cough. He had rounded the corner of the house and bumped square into three workmen — big and burly, tattooed and sweaty, toting power tools.

Busted!

He was mortified, of course. For a long time after that, he called the dogs using a deep, manly baritone. But cooing to a treasured family pet is so natural, we lapse into it unconsciously. We don’t even know we’re doing it.

Baby talk happens.

The animals, of course, lap it up. They pass no judgment on our foolishness. In fact, they encourage it. To them, a human speaking baby talk means that one of three wondrous things is about to occur:

1. A scratch behind the ears.

2. A walk.

3. FOOD!

So they grin and wag and purr to keep the sugar talk coming their way.

Oops, sorry. I’ve got to go now. Mama’s little boo-boo jumped into my lap a moment ago and is demanding attention.

Time for some serious baby talk.

Jeanne Malmgren can be reached at malmgrenjeanne@yahoo.com.