The Adventures of Mr Norbert Waggles - Part 1 / by Evan Perry

Mr Norbert Waggles Esquire came to us on a chilly day in March. This is an entry from his journal regarding his new life with the Perry Family

11 March 2017 - I am embroiled in a conflict of wills: My people have seen my cheerful demeanor and hearty energy and deemed it unacceptable. Whereas my personality and deep moral convictions took me far in Tennessee, these New England humans find me overbearing and even a poor guest in their home. They called me Jasper and I certainly feel as if their job description for Dog of the House falls within servitude. Am I not a person? Am I not deserving respect and attention? They see me as a mutt and not as an educated and cultured individual. However they came to their decision, I find myself on the move once again. I sit in the rear of their auto back to the shelter from whence I came and then onto fosterhood. Again. I would say I'm bitterly disappointed, but if these people don't have use for an intellect such as mine, then why shed tears? Someday I will find a permanent arrangement.

Cont'd - This is interesting! We returned to the holding facility, but I was ushered right into the back of a waiting auto. The driver, a lovely person, spoke highly of me and seemed to have an unlimited supply of affection. I waited to see where this person was taking me. Perhaps back to my stomping grounds in the South? It was in that moment that I remembered a quote from the immortal Dr. King: "Freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed". In that spirit, I made sure that the lovely person driving knew my presence lest she decide to chain me in another facility someplace or bring me into another narrow-minded family unit. I am in the prime of my life and need to find a place in a home where I'm treated with respect. It would also be nice to have benefits and a retirement plan, but that could be negotiated later.

Cont'd - The lovely person pulled into a driveway after our ride, and gestured widely. This apartment belonged to her and it was where I would be staying until she could find another position in another family. The place was nice: Lots of windows, a little space to run around, warm. The person owned a small cat slave named Scout. She was deaf and not at all welcoming, but like all slaves, she demurred to the will of her master. Cats are foolish creatures who believe that defiance is equivalent to freedom and control, but it is they who are closely controlled and confined into little worlds. It was but a few minutes before a man came to the house. He was dressed in a black uniform and cold from the negative temperatures outside. He saw me and introduced himself with an outstretched hand. My background and experience with people has made me quite nervous and skeptical of newcomers, but I knew right away that he was a kind person and unassuming. It became obvious that he lived in the apartment with the other human woman, the lovely one. For now, this would be my people. How long has yet to be seen.