When my mother-in-law, Barbara, moved in for a month while her house was renovated, I knew it wouldn’t be easy. But her dog, Sparky, turned out to be the real challenge. Every night, he barked and scratched outside my bedroom, stealing my sleep. When I asked Barbara to handle it, she laughed and said, “That’s your problem.” So, I came up with a clever fix to make sure she understood my struggle, and it changed everything.
I’m a dog person, but Sparky was a nervous little guy who growled at anything that moved—curtains, shadows, even me. Barbara called him her “emotional support dog,” though she didn’t have any paperwork. When she and her husband, Ed, arrived, I served dinner and made small talk while Sparky roamed the house like a tiny king. Barbara cooed that he was just settling in. I smiled, hoping he’d relax soon.
I work nights at the hospital, so I need rest to function. That first night, I dragged myself home, only to hear Sparky growl as I headed upstairs. I hushed him and crashed, but at midnight, he started howling outside my door. His barks and scratches were so loud I thought he’d wake the neighborhood. My husband slept through it, but I was up, counting the hours until my next shift. The noise finally stopped at 3 a.m., leaving me exhausted.
The second night was worse. Sparky added whines and thuds, like he was throwing himself at the door. By morning, I was barely functioning. Over coffee, I asked Barbara to keep Sparky in her room at night. She shrugged, saying he was protecting her and I shouldn’t work such late shifts. When I said I was running on fumes, she laughed and called it my issue. That smug look pushed me to take action.
On the third night, as Sparky’s howls echoed, I recorded every sound on my phone. The next morning, while Barbara slept, I set my speaker against her wall and played the recording at full blast. Then I grabbed coffee out. When I returned, Barbara was livid, demanding why I’d played “that racket.” I smiled and said I wanted her to hear Sparky’s dedication. She stammered, then promised to fix it.
That night, there was silence. The next day, Barbara said they were moving to Ed’s brother’s house. I waved goodbye, relishing the quiet. Later, I heard Sparky was in training for his “nighttime anxiety.” Now, he’s a perfect guest. Sometimes, you just need to share the problem to find a solution.
