Actors playing animals in a veterinarian’s waiting room?

I’ll admit that this premise—played out in the Purple Rose Theatre’s new world premiere production of Matt Letscher’s Bert & Trixie Visit the Vet—initially threatened to trigger my eye roll reflex.

But expectations are funny things. Sometimes, when you go into a theater with both skepticism and an open mind, delight and surprise creep in, and you find more resonant substance in the work than you anticipated.

Bert & Trixie opens with the default owner (Meghan VanArsdalen) of two sibling dogs, Bert (Jonathan West) and Trixie (Jamie Elvey)—left behind by their philandering original owner—arriving at a vet’s office, where there’s also a resident caged parrot (Leonard, played by John Seibert); a pot-stirring stray cat (Bitchy, played by Mark Colson); and an alarmingly unfiltered nurse (Maria Ru-djen).

As the animals talk with each other, and a health scare for one looms, they weigh the pros and cons of belonging to someone versus living free and unfettered in the world—which is a question humans, including some high-falutin’ philosophers, have grappled with for centuries. So there’s meat on this seemingly silly play’s bones and, to Letscher, the cast, and director’s credit, it’s also often quite funny.

The actors’ performances, deftly guided by director Rhiannon Ragland, are a big part of the show’s charm. West and Elvey are the first to cash in on this, eyes wide, tongues out as their gaze closely tracks treats dangled from the nurse’s hands. Elvey’s Trixie is the more trusting and cheerful of the two, while West’s Bert enters the office against his will and shrinks from being “poked.” Both actors have closely studied dogs’ movements and expressions enough to draw you fully into the illusion and make you giggle in recognition. It’s an impressive, fun feat of acting.

Ru-djen plays the oversharing nurse who drops references to her past drug use with a dry matter-of-factness; VanArsdalen’s owner is carrying far more emotional baggage than we first realize; and Colson’s frazzled, patchy appearance mirrors Bitchy’s hard-knock-life experience, which inevitably makes him the play’s perfect agent of chaos. But for me, it’s Seibert—playing an old parrot who’s seen a lot happen in this vet’s office over many years—who is the play’s not-so-secret-weapon. Which is to say: it’s always a joy to watch a pro like Seibert perform on local stages, but in this play, we get the double pleasure of watching him tackle a wildly offbeat and strange role and of rooting for this old, wise bird who doesn’t even remember what it’s like to fly freely.

Sarah Pearline’s set design (complete with cat tree) captures the constantly wiped-down, colorful austerity of many vet offices, with great touches like the vet’s logo on the door and different animal illustrations on the highest backdrop panels. Noele Stollmack’s gorgeous, colorful lighting design, paired with Brad Phillips’ spot-on sound design, plays no small role in placing us inside this micro-world of animals within our more familiar world of humans.

Special mention must be made of Shelby Newport’s whimsical and creative costumes. The dogs are fitted out with nubby beige fleece vests and mittens (with leash harnesses, of course), the cat wears old, worn street casual wear with fingerless gloves, and Leonard the parrot—the show’s visual centerpiece—wears a peacock blue button-down shirt, tie, and beanie (which matches his cage); a short, formal, bright yellow jacket; and, wrapping around the back, layers upon layers of men’s ties, color coordinated to mimic the exotic bird’s plumage. It’s a stunning feast for the eyes.

All this having been said, Bert & Trixie isn’t purr-fect—some early jokes fall flat; there’s a running gag about Bitchy’s huge testicles (coyly represented by props designer Danna Segrest’s low-hanging, cross-body leather pouch) that gets over-worn; the owner’s back-story is rendered so goofily that when she’s in a legitimate moment of pain, it’s jarring; and the show’s key showdown scene feels overwrought and contrived.

But these are minor quibbles (or should I say “kibbles”?) in a show that takes a big imaginative leap and, for the most part, lands on its feet with grace. For Bert & Trixie is, fittingly, the theatrical equivalent of a sweet, energetic puppy you don’t plan to adopt but somehow ends up in your car, anyway.

My guess is that you’ll have no regrets. 

Jenn McKee is a former staff arts reporter for The Ann Arbor News, where she primarily covered theater and film events, and also wrote general features and occasional articles on books and music.   

"Bert & Trixie Visit the Vet" is at the Purple Rose Theatre, 137 Park Street, Chelsea, through August 31. Visit purplerosetheatre.org for tickets, showtimes, and more info.