THE CAT AMBASSADOR
To be a successful member of a guest relations team in the hospitality industry, you must like people. If you think a cat couldn’t possibly meet that requirement, then you haven’t met “Doc,” the Lobby Ambassador at Old Town Manor.
When I visited, Doc was on break, lounging in his office behind the reception desk. All it took was mention of his name and he agreeably woke from a good catnap to come out into the lobby and make my acquaintance.
A large, gorgeous 6-year-old tabby, Doc has worked at the historic inn since 2017 when he was adopted from the FKSPCA. His name is a nod to the inn’s original owner, a doctor by trade.
Mai Stevens, a fellow staff member at the pet-friendly establishment, is one of Doc’s biggest fans. I asked how he gets along with dogs. “Dogs, cats, people, he’s great with them all.” Apparently, there was only one guest he didn’t take to, a hairless cat who was an internet celebrity. “Didn’t impress Doc at all.”
As lobby ambassador, he makes everyone feel at home. A party-lover, Doc can often be found mingling with wedding guests waiting in the lobby for the reception to begin. He’s also an official taste tester for the smoked salmon, bacon and organic eggs set out each morning.
“He gets a lot of love,” an employee told me. “Especially from folks who miss their pets back home.”
There was one guest who missed her cat so much she asked if Doc could sleep with her on her birthday. He obliged. That’s how devoted Doc is to keeping guests at Old Town Manor happy. It’s a rare cat that does that.
Or person, come to think of it.
THE PIRATE DOG
If you’ve strolled down the 600 block of Duval Street anytime in last 25 years, chances are you’ve seen the Key West Pirate Dog — or one of his predecessors, a dog wearing a skull and crossbones hat, tiny brightly colored sunglasses and a cape made of what appears to be a Santa cap with a hole cut out for the tail. Along with faithful first mate, Cowboy George, the Pirate Dog is one of the longest running street entertainer acts on Duval. The current Pirate Dog is King Coconut, a brown and black chihuahua-mix, he’s the third incarnation of the Pirate Dog, which began not as an act, but a matter of necessity.
In 1998, George’s first Key West dog, Sir Nigel, lost an eye in a dog attack. He placed a patch over it and soon everyone in town began calling the one-eyed mutt “the pirate dog.” His notoriety became the inspiration for what would become a legend in Key West street entertainment.
Coconut’s Pirate Dog act is simple but effective. He lounges on his mat near the corner of Eaton and Duval half asleep, surrounded by bits and pieces of pirate swag: an empty one-swig bottle of cheap rum, an open book, Fantasy Fest beads. When a kid squeals “Look, Daddy” or a bunch of girls swoon around him, George says, “Get up, Coco.” Coconut lazily raises his head. The fans go crazy.
It’s not a bad gig, considering he’s paid in chicken nuggets from Wendy’s. My dog would kill for that.
“It’s all about him,” George says. “I don’t even bother having my own tip jar any more.”
The Pirate Dog and his first mate have cut back to part-time hours a few days a week. George has been at it for 25 years and Coconut for 91 (in dog years).
It’s no surprise the act has lasted so long. The Key West Pirate Dog embodies all that is quirky and mythical about this town – the legacy of piracy, reinvention of self and the art of acquiring treasure.
That means tips, folks.
PJ, THE PUG BOOKSELLER
Owner Suzanne Orchard has a sign on the door of Island Books alerting patrons that “PJ is in,” which means dog customers need to come back after 3:30 p.m. when his shift is over. Seems PJ, a friendly fellow who loves people and other dogs when they are not in his store, has a personal policy of no dogs in the shop while he’s on duty.
“He just started doing this,” Suzanne explains.
PJ, who just turned 3, has been working at Island Books since he was adopted by Suzanne and her husband as a pup. He spends much of his workday watching the comings and goings of the bookstore from his comfy (and secured) dog-bed-outfitted post behind the counter.
Suzanne says she can’t figure out how he sees dogs from back there. “But he barks as soon as they step through the door.”
Upon request though, PJ is happy to leave his counter position and help human customers. On the floor, he’s a consummate salesperson, making small talk, high-fiving book choices and creating memories of Key West for visitors and book aficionados.
“People come back year after year and ask for him by name,” says Suzanne.
I can see why they do. PJ is the quintessential adorable pug. But beyond his charm and good looks, there’s another reason people flock to him. Suzanne mentioned it and so did almost every person I interviewed who works with cats or dogs.
People miss their pets terribly when they travel without them. A brief encounter with a friendly working animal in a shop or hotel can make their day. For businesses, it’s a win-win. Owners get to have their pet with them, and their pet can bring in customers — and keep them coming back.
I’m thinking PJ might make the world’s cutest security dog, but what shop owner wouldn’t want someone on the floor who can bring in repeat customers? Doc does it for Old Town Manor and the Key West Pirate Dog has folks seeking him out.
Just a thought: Maybe we should rethink the workforce problem in this town.
