Flushing-based Second Chance Rescue finds foster parents for pets who are sentenced to Animal Care & Control shelters in Staten Island, Manhattan and Brooklyn.

Eleven. That's the number that forever altered Sakis Karagiannakis' life. That's how old he was when his father died, paving the way for his becoming the prime provider for his mother and two sisters.

When Bob Koch walks in, Caesar, a benevolent Beagle with big eyes, is lounging in it. Up until Caesar's arrival 2½ years ago, it was Bob's chair. "Now, it's our chair," he says.

"Shoe Repair & Shine." That's what the sign says in big, snow-white letters. But it's probably been there since Kennedy was president; no doubt the owner never bothered to update it.

The snow is stacked up like skyscrapers. Why is Anthony Bendinelli wearing shorts and sockless Converse All Stars?

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to The Great Snow Show. My rapt "audience" -- the little old ladies who live on my block -- is peeking at me from behind lace curtains.

"Hey, Dog Walker!" The shout-out bounds across the street like a puppy fetching a stick. Erin O'Meara, leash and iPod in hand, waves.

"Do you like cats?" That's Lauren Shpall's greeting when she opens the front door, one ebony and one ivory feline at her feet.

Alfred C. Ronzoni Jr. arrives at the Greater Astoria Historical Society right on the dot. Al, in case you didn't know, is one of the pasta-making Ronzonis.

Life doesn't always take a straight and narrow path; it often chooses a circular route, so let's start in the middle of the story and see where we end up.

"I want to die in this house." That's what Michael Halberian, owner of the storied Steinway Mansion, declared late on Christmas Eve. Three days later, the house that brought Michael life took him back.

Garo Apanian opens his candy-apple-red laptop. "Let me show you the apartment where I was born," he says. "It's a beautiful building." The image that appears is of Beirut.

When Irina Kom parts the exotic pink and gold silk curtain to reveal her living room-cum-bedroom-cum-dance studio, the incense refreshes the senses like a walk in a spring shower.

Agatino "Tony" Manganaro, who came to New York from Sicily with a pregnant wife and only $25 in his pocket, didn't get where he is by resting. He worked -- his brawn and his brains.

Deciding to raise chickens in an apartment that's smaller than a chicken coop isn't something Jules Corkery and Robert McMinn are doing on a whim.

Emma Bryant is an actress. She's not waiting on tables. She's not waiting for the big break. So far, what Emma has made happen are a theater production company and an in-home Pilates studio.

Sculptor Rafael Petrosyan left Armenia nearly four decades ago, but old customs die hard. He's had his morning shot of wine already when I catch up with him.

In a good week, Stephanos Koullias will collect nearly 1,000 pounds of other people's excess edibles.

In the living room, kneeling against the ruby red wall, is a Thai goddess. Above her head, in golden frames that match the trim of her royal raiment, are three Chilean oil paintings.

Sead Cerovic, aka Cera the Bull, is a big guy. His 6-foot-2 frame stands on 240 pounds of monumental muscle.

Asami Hotta picks up a petite pair of pliers, and with the skill of a neurosurgeon, starts turning the bits into a piece of one-of-a-kind costume jewelry.

There is a Catholic high school whose back faces my back yard, and when the school bell utters its shrill ear-splitting peal every afternoon, the Trespassing Teens, traveling in packs of two to 12, spill out of its front doors.

"The biggest thing about cooking is the story about it," says Amuse * Bouche blogger Bradley O'Bryan Hawks. "The story always makes the food taste better."

"I love the women," says hairdresser Angelo Grivokostopoulos. "I want to make all the women in the world beautiful all the time."

"Everybody says we look alike," says Francine Amendola. "But our mother says we don't," adds her sister, Laraine Amendola.