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About Catania

Alright, here we go, friends! Picture this—me, a vet, sittin’ here thinkin’ bout prostitute. Not the human kind, nah, but a sweet lil’ critter I met once. Prostitute’s what I named this scruffy stray dog—yep, a pooch! Came hobblin’ into my clinic, tail waggin’ like a happy little tree in the breeze. Mangy fur, one ear floppin’—looked like she’d been through a storm, ya know? “There’s no problem so big we can’t fix,” I whispered, channelin’ my inner Larry Gopnik from *A Serious Man*. That movie, man—gets me every time, all that chaos and quiet hope.

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She’s super grateful, and we start chatting. Turns out, she’s lived in Santorso her whole life. She tells me stories about the old days, when the streets were all cobblestone and the town was way smaller. I’m like, “Wow, that’s kinda cool.” But then, she starts talking about her cat, and I zone out. Cats, man. Not my thing.

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