When my MIL moved in for a month, I had no idea her little mixed-breed dog would spend every evening howling outside my bedroom. I begged her to control him, but she laughed in my face: “Sounds like your problem, not his.” Oh really? That’s when I decided to make it her problem!
I knew it would be challenging to live with my MIL for a month while their home was being renovated, but I never imagined her dog would be the worst part of it.
A mixed-breed dog sitting on a dog bed | Source: DALL-E
I love dogs, but Linda’s little mixed-breed, Max, was one of those neurotic handbag dogs that thinks anyone who looks at their owner for too long is a potential threat.
And Linda was the type of person who insisted on calling Max her emotional support dog, despite having no official paperwork or any health condition where an ESA would be helpful.
A smug woman | Source: Midjourney
Linda and Gerald arrived on Sunday.
My husband showed them to the guest room, and I made polite conversation about their drive while serving dinner.
Meanwhile, Max prowled around my house like a tiny general inspecting his new territory.
A dog sniffing at a curtain | Source: DALL-E
Every few minutes, he’d growl at absolutely nothing: the coffee table, a shadow on the wall… the audacity of my existence.
“He’s just getting used to the new environment,” Linda explained, scratching behind his ears. “Aren’t you, my precious boy? You’re such a good protector!”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
I just smiled.
After dinner, I got ready to leave for another grueling night shift at the hospital.
“You really shouldn’t be working such odd hours,” Linda remarked as I tossed a pack of Goldfish into my backpack to snack on later.
A person holding a backpack | Source: Pexels
“It’s part of the job,” I replied. “And it’s not like people who need emergency surgery can wait until morning.”
She let out a judgmental little “hmmf” and put Max’s dinner down in front of him.
I shrugged it off and left for work.
A medical professional dressed for surgery | Source: Pexels
I arrived home hours later. Max growled at me as I dragged myself upstairs, but scurried off to his bed when I whispered to him to hush.
I crawled into bed beside my husband, exhausted.
It felt like I’d only slept for five minutes when I was woken by an explosion of sound right outside my bedroom door.
A door in a home | Source: Pexels
WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!
I shot upright, heart hammering against my ribs, as Max launched into what I can only describe as an opera of rage.
His deep, guttural howls seemed to shake the walls. Now and then, he let out sharp, booming barks that could wake the dead. He scratched at my door like he was trying to escape a burning building.
A dog scratching at a door | Source: DALL-E
I glanced over at my husband, but he was sleeping like a baby. Apparently, having Max personally announce the impending apocalypse wasn’t disrupting his sleep.
The noise continued for an hour. It sounded like the hounds of hell were out there, not one small lapdog.
Every time I thought he might be winding down, Max would find his second wind and start the whole symphony over again.
A dog howling in a hallway at night | Source: DALL-E
At 2:17 a.m., I crept to my door and pressed my ear against it.
Through the wood, I heard Linda’s voice, thick with sleep, calling out, “Max, honey, come back to bed.”
Did he listen? Of course not. If anything, he got louder, like her voice was his cue for the grand finale.
A barking dog in a darkened hallway | Source: DALL-E
Finally, mercifully, at 3:00 a.m., silence fell over the house.
I was so relieved I almost cried. But by then, my alarm was set to go off in three hours, and I had another shift at the hospital ahead of me.
Have you ever tried to function on three hours of sleep while managing medical emergencies? It’s a nightmare.
A medical professional standing near medical machinery | Source: Pexels
The second night was worse.
Max started his midnight serenade right on schedule, but this time he added new elements to his performance. He scratched at the baseboards and whimpered in between barks like he was being tortured.
At one point, I swear he was throwing himself against my door like a furry battering ram.
A woman in bed covering her ears with her hands | Source: Pexels
By morning, I looked like an extra from a zombie movie. I stumbled into the kitchen where Linda was humming cheerfully over her coffee.
“Good morning, sweetheart! You look tired.”
You look tired. Like she had no idea why that might be.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and took a deep breath.
A full cup of coffee in a coffee machine | Source: Pexels
“Linda, I was wondering if maybe you could bring Max into your room at night? He’s been… pretty active in the hallway.”
She blinked at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Active? What do you mean?”
“The barking. All night long. Right outside my door.”
Linda’s expression shifted, and I could practically see the defensive walls going up.
A woman staring incredulously at someone | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, that. Well, maybe you shouldn’t be working those hours. Max isn’t used to people coming and going late at night and he’s just protecting his family. You should be grateful he’s so alert.”
Grateful. I stared at her, wondering if she was actually serious. “I’m grateful for a lot of things, Linda. Just not for the three hours of sleep I’m not getting.”
An annoyed-looking woman | Source: Pexels
She laughed. Actually laughed. Like my exhaustion was the funniest joke she’d heard all week.
“Well, that sounds like your problem, not his.”
And there it was. The gauntlet, thrown down right there on my kitchen table between the sugar bowl and her self-righteous smirk.
Challenge accepted.
A close up of an angry woman’s face | Source: Midjourney
That third night, as Max began his familiar routine of demonic howling, I did something I probably should have done two nights earlier.
I sat up in bed, grabbed my phone, and hit record.
I captured every single bark, mournful howl, scratch, whimper, and banshee wail that poured out of that little mutt in beautiful, high-definition audio.
But I was just getting started.
A woman in bed holding a cellphone | Source: Pexels
The next morning at exactly 6:30 a.m. — right when Linda and Max finally settled into peaceful slumber after their night of terrorizing me — I placed my Bluetooth speaker flush against the wall we shared.
I pressed play.
Max’s recorded symphony filled the air, pumped through premium speakers at a volume that would make a rock concert jealous.
A person handling a Bluetooth speaker | Source: Pexels
And me? I grabbed my things and went out for coffee.
When I returned home around 9:30 a.m., the house was dead silent. Linda and Gerald’s door was firmly shut, and I could hear muffled voices through the wood; heated, urgent whispers that made me smile as I tiptoed past.
That evening, I was barely through the front door when Linda stormed into the kitchen like a tornado in a floral print dress.
A stern-looking woman | Source: Pexels
“ARE YOU INSANE?” she exploded, throwing her hands up. “You’re seriously playing that horrible noise while we’re trying to sleep?!”
I set down my purse and turned to face her with the sweetest smile I could manage. “What horrible noise? I was playing Max’s midnight serenade, so you could appreciate how alert he is.”
Her mouth fell open. “That’s not… that’s completely different!”
A woman speaking to someone | Source: Midjourney
“Is it?” I tilted my head, channeling every ounce of innocent confusion I could fake. “You don’t like the sound of him working so hard to protect us?”
Linda’s face cycled through several shades of red.
“This is ridiculous. You’re being completely unreasonable. I’m starting to think you want us to leave.”
A woman glaring at someone | Source: Midjourney
“Leave? Oh no, Linda. I figured you missed me so much that you trained Max to bark all night until I came home from work. I was flattered by all the attention.”
She stared at me, opening and closing her mouth like a fish gasping for air. For the first time since I’d known her, Linda was completely speechless.
A woman frowning at someone | Source: Midjourney
“Fine,” Linda finally managed through gritted teeth. “Fine. We’ll… we’ll figure something out.”
That night, for the first time in four days, my house was completely quiet. No barking, howling, or throwing of tiny bodies against wood.
The next morning, I woke up naturally for the first time in almost a week.
A woman stretching in bed | Source: Pexels
No alarms, no demonic dogs, just sunshine streaming through my bedroom windows and the distant sound of… suitcases being zipped?
I padded to the guest bedroom door and found it open.
Linda was aggressively shoving clothes into her luggage while Gerald folded things with military precision.
Suitcases | Source: Pexels
“Leaving already?” I asked.
“Change of plans,” Linda muttered without looking up. “Gerald’s sister begged us to come and stay with her instead. She absolutely adores Max, you know, and she’s closer to us.”
“I understand,” I said. “Well, it was wonderful having you. Really. Such an… educational experience.”
A smiling woman in a nightgown | Source: Midjourney
Twenty minutes later, I stood in my driveway waving goodbye as their Honda disappeared down the street.
The house felt impossibly quiet after four days of chaos, like the calm after a storm.
Two weeks later, my sister-in-law mentioned that Linda had gotten Max into some kind of behavioral training program.
An attentive dog on leash | Source: DALL-E
Apparently, he’d been having “nighttime anxiety issues” that were disrupting the whole household.
Funny how that worked out, isn’t it? Max never had another midnight meltdown during any of their subsequent visits.
In fact, he became something of a model houseguest — quiet, well-behaved, and cured of his mysterious nighttime terrors.
A happy dog playing with a toy | Source: DALL-E
Sometimes, I’ve found, the best way to solve a problem is to make sure everyone gets to experience it equally.
Here’s another story: Single mom Claire endures endless nights of booming music and BBQ smoke from her reckless neighbor. Complaints go ignored — until a fire breaks out during one of his parties. But when her son runs into the flames, the night takes a harrowing, unforgettable turn.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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