Devonne Brown

I finished it. I finished Norris Lives, a 25K word sequel to Norris Tales, the Adventures of an Awful House Cat. I sent it off to a publisher.

Norris draws first blood. He is a jewel thief. He steals the remote as well as little kid’s lunch money. He cheats at cards and loves a good game of escape and chase me. The name on his birth certificate reads “Dammit Norris.” Norris, shows his disdain for his human and nonhuman housemates alike. He is a cat of unparallelled condescension and demeanor. He must have his cream on a pedestal. Norris Lives is a  collection of short stories and vignettes about the beast who bests all who dare darken his door, especially the fifty pound poodle, he uses other cats like dental floss, and people are tools.

Norris Lives is written in hyperbolic nonfiction. Like a Mark Twain story or stretcher, each tale in Norris Lives contains a grain of truth. The reader will laugh out loud at Norris’s antics.

Ian, the elder of the twins, calls it a metaphor for life rather than a book about a cat. Whatever it is, I’m proud to have gotten it off my chest and can move on to another book.

No, it might not be about a cat.