Does God know my dog is cute?

I was sitting down eating oatmeal with my incredibly cute dog next to me and I noticed his/her various facial mannerisms, each one making me think he/she was cute, or sad, or interested in my food, or whatever each mannerism suggested to my mind. Like when dogs pant, they look happy. Or when they put their ears back, they seem like they don't want done whatever they think you are about to do.

(And I should mention: squirrels are cute too.)

I realized that I was judging and sorting my cute dog's mannerisms into my human categories, as if he/she were a human instead of a cute dog. My cute dog's actual conscious experience was probably nothing like what I was thinking of.

So I wondered what it's like for God as he looks down upon us created creatures. Does God have his own categories he places our mannerism into like we do for dogs? Does God think my cute dog is cute like I do? Or does God, rather, know the essential essence of what my cute dog is thinking about from moment to moment like a micromanager?

And so it is, I think, for such things as beauty. I thoroughly enjoy Bach harpsichord fugues; someone else might consider them to be mere annoying noise.

And the same for morality, to some extent. One person might think picking your nose in public is a horrible evil. (But where is the line of morality such that murder is absolutely evil? And what is the source of that line? If God cares about murder, why does he not care about nose picking? Is it justified for us to have moral opinions about activities that God doesn't care about, that God himself doesn't decree?)

Anyway, my dog is definitely cute. God didn't tell me this; I just know it. It's obvious to sensible people.