When my mother-in-law moved in for a month, I thought the biggest challenge would be sharing space with her. I had no idea the real nightmare would be her little mixed-breed dog, Max — a tiny tornado with fur who thought my hallway was his concert stage. It all started when Linda and her husband Gerald came to stay while their home was being renovated.
My husband helped them settle into the guest room, and I tried to be a good host, making small talk and serving a nice dinner. Max, on the other hand, strutted through my house like he owned it — sniffing, growling, and glaring at everything as if the furniture had insulted him personally. He growled at the coffee table
