”The guests, I handpicked them like chocolates,” David Migicovsky says. ”There`s Monica Heftler, she`s very Zsa Zsa, she`ll be bringing Omar, and then there`s Mrs. Beasley, he`s a man who writes a column for a gay magazine. He`ll be along with the triplets.”
Migicovsky is the owner of COCO`S, a sidewalk cafe in the town of Bal Harbour, Fla.-Miami`s answer to Palm Beach-that caters to patrons and their lap dogs.
”We came down from Montreal and were amazed that we couldn`t take our dog (Coco, a teacup poodle, also known as the ”forever puppy”) out to eat with us,” he says.
Hence, COCO`s, where the BOW WOW! menu includes the munchkin burger, breast of turkey chips and rare roast beef, all $5.75, and the Dogtail, Evian served with a slice of orange and a tiny umbrella, $2.25.
Today, one of those current-affair shows, First Edition or Seconds Later or no, ”It`s `Inside Edition,` ” the producer insists, is here to capture the ambience. Apparently, according to Migicovsky, they`ve been bugging him for months to set this up. And a setup it is, with all the handpicked regulars already arriving at what Migicovsky says is, as far as he knows, the only place in the country that dotes on little canines.
”In France, people won`t go out to dinner unless they can bring their dogs, and I`ve lived in France,” says Suzi Salone, who lives in North Miami Beach. She has Elizabeth and Agatha (”Cavalier King Charles Spaniels”) with her on short leashes and a gentleman named Bill from Key West, who is hardly restrained and a bit oblivious to what is going on here.
”I picked up the menu, ordered the Evian with an orange slice and the waiter put it on the ground,” he says, shaking his head.
Elizabeth and Agatha are fighting over one measly drink and umbrellas are flying.
”Agatha, you pig!” Salone yells.
Bill, do they do this sorta thing in Key West?
”No, we`re poor. We eat dogs down there.”
Chic Chihuahuas
Mrs. Beasley, coming all the way from Hollywood, pulls up in a stretch limo with one Chihuahua, two Chihuahua, three Chihuahua-”The triplets!”
everyone cheers.
The ”Inside” TV crew dashes and films him one time, two times, three times coming out of the stretch limo. ”We need you to do that one more time, we`re sorry,” they say. Beasley himself is beginning to moisten up a bit-the dogs are disappearing, one is under the limo, one is in the bushes, he`s finally down to a single Chihuahua, Dixie (the one that has an AIDS benefit named after her) for the last shoot.
As he finally makes his way to a table, he is dripping with sweat, his fashionable black suit is just covered in natty Chihuahua hairs, and the odd little things are pulling him like a herd of deprived reindeer that were raised by a Maltese Santa Claus.
Which brings us to Omar.
”We always coordinate our outfits. We have to match,” says Monica Heftler, who lives directly across the street. ”You should see us when we dress up as Santa Claus.” Today they are wearing what could best be described as Halloween tangerine. Stunning.
”We usually come every Sunday for the chicken,” Heftler says.
Omar is on the table, breathing heavily, with his tongue hanging out like a 6-year-old girl staring at a ”New Kids on the Block” poster. It is 90-some-odd degrees on the patio, and he is dying of thirst, but he refuses to go under the table where a full dish of Evian with an umbrella in it is waiting for him.
”Omar won`t go down there; he wants to eat from the table,” Heftler says.
Barry Lipson, a waiter, is hopping over furry speed bumps as he rushes the orders. ”More turkey bits over here.” ”Could you spare the umbrellas?
My dahlink is going to poke both her eyes out.”
He is spinning around. ”We usually don`t have so many dogs at once,” he grins. ”It`s not bad though. You get tired of serving people, so this is nice for a change. Besides, a lot of them are better behaved than the humans. Dogs love me.”
And now that Lipson is in the story, nothing else matters. In fact the only characters that really matter here are Heftler; her Maltese, Omar; and Lipson, who are destined toward the tell-all incident that follows.
The whole affair is just loping along, the one and only Coco had made her rounds cradled by Migicovsky`s daughter, the cameras continue rolling as the crowd thins out, ”Honey, I`m going to the bathroom, I`ll be right back, they`re going to film Kelly finishing my lunch.” A cocker spaniel sits alone in a shady corner cleansing his palate on a cup of orange sherbet. The perfect ending to a perfect luncheon.
But then Heftler whispers to her chauffeur (a big burly Saint Bernard of a fella) what must have been something like, ”Bring the chariot around,”
because she quickly struggles to her heels and begins her exit.
Headed for trouble
At the same time, Lipson comes out, tray in hand, balancing empty pooch dishes and discarded umbrellas. As he turns a corner, he and Heftler match each other stride for stride in a wonderful waiter-loves-patron, welcome-to-the-service-industry stroll. Now, you have to zoom in on this. Omar turns and looks at Lipson. Lipson can`t even see Omar`s eyes because of the Maltese`s choice of hairdo, but if he could he might get a glimpse of all the hatred and malicious intent that can build up in a spongy Maltese brain on a hot dog-day afternoon.
But who can really know what either one is thinking as they stride along? You can only guess Omar`s daydreaming about heading back to the cool flat, watching the new ”Hollywood Squares,” listening to some water, riding the elevator, who knows?
Lipson is most likely thinking about finishing up the last few tables, probably glad the lunch rush or ruff is over, gonna count his tips, work up some small talk with one of the new waitresses, maybe make himself up a little plate of dog food, who knows?
And then suddenly, there`s an elongated yelp that could easily be confused with a dolphin`s scream and if translated into English would probably read, ”Now, I am going to eat your calf, you inane busboy!” And with that, it appears, Omar chomps into Lipson`s right leg.
Luckily, he has on his white baggy pants, which are as important in this business as a bulletproof vest. It seems that Omar meant to do the job but only shredded Lipson`s pants. Heftler, meanwhile, appears to be taking this all in stride. Meaning, she doesn`t even stop.
She says nothing to Lipson, but as she rounds toward the Rolls, she giggles and says to Omar, ”Oh, my, did we eat that boy`s pants? Oh, well, we`ll be back Sunday and buy him a new pair.”
Lipson is flushed as the Rolls pulls away. Where is ”Inside Edition”
now? ”Dogs love me,” he mutters. ”Dogs love me.”
