When my mother-in-law moved in for a month, I had no idea her tiny mixed dog would spend each night barking outside my bedroom. I asked her to deal with him, but she just laughed and said: “Sounds like your problem, not his.” Oh really? That’s when I decided it was time to make it her issue.
I expected it to be hard living with my mother-in-law for a month while their house was being fixed, but I never thought her dog would be the biggest hassle.
I love dogs, but Marlene’s little pup, Rusty, was one of those nervous purse-sized ones who think anyone looking at their owner too long is a threat.
And Marlene was the kind of person who claimed Rusty was her emotional support dog, even though she had no papers or any real condition that would need one.
Marlene and Roland arrived on Sunday.
My husband guided them to the guest room, and I made small talk about their trip while we ate supper.
Meanwhile, Rusty sneaked around my house like a tiny leader inspecting his new territory.
Every now and then, he’d growl at nothing — a chair leg, a shifting shadow… the crime of me existing.
“He’s just getting used to things,” Marlene said while scratching behind his ears. “Aren’t you, sweet boy? You’re such a brave little protector!”
I just nodded and smiled.
After supper, I got ready for another late shift at the hospital.
“You really shouldn’t work such odd hours,” Marlene said as I tossed a pack of cheese crackers in my bag for later.
“It comes with the job,” I replied. “People needing emergency surgery don’t wait till morning.”
She gave a sharp little “hmph” and set Rusty’s supper on the floor.
I let it slide and left for work.
When I got back hours later, Rusty growled as I headed upstairs, but scurried to his bed when I gently told him to quiet down.
I fell into bed next to my husband, exhausted.
It felt like I’d barely shut my eyes when a burst of noise woke me right outside my room.
WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!
I sat up straight, heart racing, as Rusty started what I could only call a fury concert.
His loud, wild barks shook the walls. Sometimes, he threw in sharp yaps that could wake the whole street. He scratched at the door like he was fleeing a blaze.
I glanced at my husband, who was snoring calmly — clearly, Rusty’s version of doomsday wasn’t bothering him.
The noise went on for over an hour. It sounded like a pack of wolves, not one tiny lapdog.
Just when I thought he was calming down, Rusty started again, more riled up than before.
At 2:17 a.m., I crept to the door and leaned against it.
Through the wood, I heard Marlene’s sleepy voice calling, “Rusty, sweetie, come back to bed.”
Did he stop? Of course not. If anything, her voice just fired him up for a dramatic finish.
Finally, thankfully, at 3 a.m., the house went silent.
I nearly wept. But my alarm was set to go off in three hours, and I had to work again.
Ever tried working in a hospital on three hours of sleep? It’s like walking through a haze.
Night two? Worse.
Rusty began his usual midnight song right on time, but this time added new tricks. He scratched at the floor and whined between barks like he was in pain.
I swear, he threw himself at the door like a tiny battering ram.
By morning, I looked like I belonged in a zombie film. I shuffled into the kitchen where Marlene was happily sipping coffee.
“Morning, dear! You look worn out.”
You look worn out. Like she had no hint why.
I poured coffee and took a deep breath.
“Marlene, I was wondering if maybe Rusty could sleep in your room at night? He’s been… really noisy out in the hall.”
She blinked with wide eyes. “Noisy? What do you mean?”
“The barking. All night. Right outside my door.”
Her face changed, and I could see her building her defenses.
“Oh, that. Well, maybe it’s your strange schedule. Rusty isn’t used to people coming home late, and he’s just being protective. You should be grateful he’s so alert.”
Grateful. I stared at her, wondering if she was serious. “I’m grateful for many things, Marlene. Just not the three hours of sleep I’m missing.”
She laughed. Actually laughed. Like my lack of sleep was a great joke.
“Well, that sounds like your issue, not his.”
There it was. The final push, placed neatly on the breakfast table between her coffee and that smug grin.
Challenge accepted.
That third night, as Rusty started his usual wild chorus, I did something I should’ve done sooner.
I sat up, grabbed my phone, and hit record.
I caught every bark, howl, whine, and scratch in clear, high-quality audio.
But I wasn’t done.
Next morning at exactly 6:30 a.m. — when Marlene and Rusty had finally dozed off after their nightly chaos — I placed my Bluetooth speaker against our shared wall.
I hit play.
Rusty’s greatest hits blasted through the house, pumped through top-notch speakers at full volume.
And me? I grabbed my keys and went out for coffee.
When I got home around 9:30, the house was quiet. Their door was shut, and I heard hushed arguments behind it — urgent, tense whispers that made me smile as I walked by.
That evening, I barely stepped inside when Marlene stormed into the kitchen like a whirlwind in flowery clothes.
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?” she shouted. “You really blasted that awful noise while we were sleeping?!”
I set my purse down and smiled sweetly. “What awful noise? I was playing Rusty’s nighttime show. You said he was being protective — I figured you’d want to hear it.”
Her jaw dropped. “That’s not… that’s totally different!”
“Is it?” I tilted my head, acting innocent. “You don’t enjoy hearing him protect us?”
Marlene turned bright red.
“This is ridiculous. You’re being unfair. Do you want us to leave or something?”
“Leave? Oh no. I just thought you missed me so much you trained Rusty to bark all night until I got home. I felt flattered.”
She opened and closed her mouth like a puzzled fish. For once, she had no reply.
“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “Fine. We’ll… we’ll fix it.”
That night, for the first time in days, the house was silent. No barking. No scratching. No dog outbursts.
The next morning, I woke up on my own, no alarm, no chaos — just sunlight and calm.
And… the sound of suitcases?
I walked over to the guest room. The door was open.
Marlene was angrily stuffing clothes into her bags while Roland packed with perfect care.
“Heading out already?” I asked.
“Plans changed,” Marlene said. “Roland’s sister begged us to stay with her instead. She loves Rusty. And she’s closer.”
“I see,” I replied. “Well, it was a joy having you. Truly. So… eye-opening.”
Twenty minutes later, I waved from the driveway as they drove off.
The house felt peaceful for the first time in days — like calm after a storm.
Two weeks later, my sister-in-law casually mentioned that Marlene had signed Rusty up for some kind of training class.
Apparently, he had “nighttime nerves” that was bothering everyone.
Funny, huh? Rusty never acted up again during any of their later visits.
In fact, he became a perfect guest — quiet, calm, and free of his nighttime tantrums.
Sometimes, the best way to fix a problem… is to make sure everyone gets a taste of it.
