The Hungry Doghouse

Ten members of the Pauly family love the move they made 18 months ago from the backbreaking work of roofing houses to the intensive hours of professional restaurateurs. Only two, son Russell and his wife Jennifer, have since decided to take a different direction. The Paulys thrive on serving up their best — selling meatloaf, pot roast, chicken wings and… oh yes, six kinds of hotdogs served any way you like them.

Agreeing on a name for the family enterprise was easy. “Everybody’s in the doghouse at one time or another,” grins Thad. “It must be a good place to go.” Customers evidently think so. The best hotdogs in Southwest Florida racked up 50 percent of sales at first. Then customers and family members pushed for an expanded menu of reasonably priced items. Until now dogs comprised a healthy 15 percent of volume.

Lines extending beyond the door in their second season reached 20 minutes as tourists vied with loyal locals. Father Dean Pauly counts revenues, not patrons, but estimates that this season they welcomed 60 percent visitors and 40 percent locals, which will turn to 95 percent locals this summer. That translates to 20 percent first-time visitors in summer, 50 percent in season.

For every Pauly, the biggest surprise has been the long hours. “We thought it would be easier to get out and do a little fishing. Or sleep,” says Dean. On rainy days on a roof, workers close up and go home. In a restaurant, staff is always there.

Even summer is busy. So this summer Pauly Construction will kick into action building one custom house rather than the two spec homes that added income last year, leaving the roofing business dormant. As co-owners, the ten family members make a comparable, if not better, living at The Hungry Doghouse than they did in their former business.

Looking for a good $6 to $7 meal on lunch hours from roofing is what led them to consider opening a restaurant in the first place. They’re big eaters and like to serve what they like to eat. Behind the counter, a menu board announces, “It finally feels great to be in the doghouse!” The Paulys concur that these days it feels better and better as they become more proficient at what they do. Because family members routinely swap tasks, that’s pretty much everything.

These days they’re more relaxed. Their feet hurt less. Familiarity with menu items means they can decipher tickets, cook orders and assemble dinners faster. Decisions on portion size and substitutions make more sense. They even clean up by 10 p.m. instead of midnight. That spells relief when the staff of six, five in summer, starts at 8 a.m. readying for lunch at 11. By 5:30 of an evening, seniors arrive for dinner. Families follow on their heels around seven. “I’ll come out of the kitchen at suppertime and see everyone in the place talking with each other,” says Thad. “I like when people drive for miles to eat with us when they’ve only just heard of us.”

Many step through the door waving a copy of an article they’ve seen (often from Southwest Florida Business magazine), wanting to make sure the Paulys see it too. They bring framed pictures of the family dog that compete for wall space. Then they relax with a newspaper or converse with family members through the kitchen door. Camaraderie’s part of the fun at this unassuming 64-seat eatery.

Last November, customers began demanding that The Hungry Doghouse cater its homemade goodies. They ask for in-restaurant parties for ten, church suppers for 100, even wedding receptions. Ever ready-to-please, the Paulys have responded eagerly, delivering meals for the same prices as the regular menu. Fruit crisp desserts are always free. And youngsters relish kids meals served up in doggie bowls.

“Nothing is ever a matter of saying no, we can’t do it,” says Dean, as he and his family daily go about figuring ways to please customers, support the bottom line and keep the front door swinging.

S. Alison Chabonais is a freelance

business writer specializing in marketing communications.