Things that go bump in the night

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PosyDog is afraid of the dark.

My once-perfectly-toilet-trained dog began messing in the house while we were sleeping. I couldn’t understand it – she knew where her “toilet” was if she needed to go when she couldn’t get outside, and it didn’t seem to be a problem during the day while we were at work.

I consulted my vet during one of her regular visits for her monthly allergy needle. “Do you think she has an infection?” I asked.

Hmm.” She prodded PosyDog’s abdomen. “Everything seems to be fine – she’s not showing any signs of discomfort. Perhaps you can get a urinary sample from her, and we can check it out.”

A wee sample? Who was she kidding? My dog will “go potty” when you let her outside and give the command, but I knew she wouldn’t be cool with me trying to get her to whiz in a pot.

I racked my brain. The Vet had suggested it might be behavioural, but it didn’t make sense. She wasn’t showing signs of other problems, she was her happy cheerful self, and extremely obedient otherwise.

One night, it clicked.

I was locking up for bed, when Mr Posy turned the laundry light off.

“When did you start turning that off?” I asked.

“A couple of weeks ago.” He could see the cogs in my brain turning – “PosyDog doesn’t need the light – it’s just wasting electricity.”

“She does need the light,” I countered. “She’s scared of the dark.”

At this point, it was a wild guess, but given she’d started messing in the house around the same time Mr Posy had started turning “her” light off, I was willing to put money on it.

I explained my hypothesis to Mr Posy. He was doubtful (and even argued that he would rather clean her mess every morning than leave the light on!).

We eventually came to an agreement that we would trial leaving the laundry light on overnight for a week. If she started using her toilet again instead of messing in the house, it was because she was a scaredy-cat, and too afraid to venture into the laundry in the dark.

Mr Posy is looking into night-lights for PosyDog. My bed-wetter (house-messer?) is no more.

I won’t deny the sweet sense of satisfaction I got from being right. I guess reading The Rosetta Bone is finally paying off.