This is a rather serious story about a group of cats that secretly run a very famous Pizza shop in Chicago. No, I am not using some fancy writers version of a metaphor. These are real, although unusual, genuine calico cats. With there black and orange large spots and sassy swishing tales, they have owned this famous shop for generations. Passed down from cat to cat it’s hard to know exactly how this place got started for sure.
Covered from head to tail with a specially designed jumpsuit to keep their kitchen cat hair free, the cats prepare for this week’s crowds. A roll of the dough is a special sight to see because all the cats bat the balls of dough around like a toy. Some ride them around the kitchen making a trail of pans behind them. Once the dough is perfectly round and beautiful to the eyes. One cat hits a pan with her tail and the cats scatter to their pie pans. Dough balls all around the room are pawed out into perfectly round discs ready for toppings. One cat sccuries throught the room checking for perfection. Swish, swish. Pat, pat. She also adds butter to the perfected dough. All action ceases and watches her eye the last of the pies. Once all are the pies are perfect she jumps through the air , turn on the music with a hit of her tail, and sprinkles powdered sugar like a fairy with pixie dust all across the room. This is the secret incredient of course. The cats simultaneolsy begin dancing. Tap, tap, tap. Swish, bang, boom. Rat a tat tat. Sauces and cheeses of every kind are poured on the pies. Meats and olives, flying through the air. One by one pizza are lined up on the oven conveyer belt. In they go with a magical twist. Out they come with a perfect gleam. Aromas begin to fill every inch of the air. Pizza boxes are filled and slipped through a door where the humans take over from here. Where is this pizza place you ask? I wouldn’t happen to know anything, my dear.