Mrs. Wigglebottom's Love for Trucks

As has been mentioned over and over, Mrs. Wigglebottom loves trucks. Pick-up trucks, semi-trucks, whatever, if it's got a cab, she wants to climb in it. Mrs. Wigglebottom is not a howling dog. Sure, sometimes she'll kind of purse her lips and let out a hooh-hooh, but really, only when she's trying to make fun of the Butcher and me. "This is what you sound like to me," she says, "ha, ha, you funny apes." Mostly, she likes to bark. She likes to bark if I'm on the phone with the Professor (Rup, rup, rup--Come over right now and let me stand on you!) or when other dogs are peeing in our side yard (yack yack yack ack ack ack ack--Hey, hey, hey, don't be peeing... shit, are you looking me? B., there's a dog peeing right there and he's looking at me! Look, look, aw, damn, don't shut the door.) or when the cats need in (ooorghll--I hear the orange cat outside. Open the door for him.). Last night, though, as I was laying in bed, trying to fall asleep, I could hear the semis on the interstate--mmmmmrraawrrllmmmm as they went by. Mmmmmrrraaawwrlllmmmm. They make this noise all night long, a drive-by lullaby for those of us who live along I-440. And after a bit, I hear, softly from the floor next to me--ggggrrraaawwwlllgggg--Mrs. Wigglebottom singing along with the passing trucks.