Perel: My disappearing dog, Benny, who could now light up the Colosseum

The police came to my house twice last week.

You see, just recently my dog, Benny, has decided to disappear about two hours before dark. He hides somewhere remote in our three-quarters-of-an-acre fenced-in backyard, which is majorly overgrown with towering, thick vegetation. Benny does not move or make a sound. And he stays concealed for hours.

You’d think a simple, “Benny, come here,” would do the trick. But the thing is, he won’t follow any commands. He’s not food-motivated, so treats don’t work. And he’s not praise-motivated, so excitedly saying, “Good boy, Benny,” doesn’t work.

His motivation in life is to disobey me. When I say, “Come,” he literally steps back. When I offer him his favorite cheese, he turns his head. When I say, “Sit,” he stands.

Benny is not stupid. In fact, this contrary pooch is exceptionally astute. His mental acuity is right on target when it comes to doing the opposite of what he’s expected to do. He’s brilliantly defiant ― 100% of the time!

My dog lives in Bizarro World.

I am, though, nuts about the little brown runt. He snuggles in bed with me ― his scrawny body against my chest ― his head on my shoulder. I want to protect him; to keep him away from bullies; to rub his belly when he’s having a nightmare.

Believe it or not, Benny loves me. Simply a look in his direction makes his tail wag. When I come into a room, he gets so excited, you’d think I was the doggie Santa Claus.

So, each of those nights that I called the Barnstable police (their non-emergency number: 508-775-0387) my husband, Bob, and I had been searching for Benny since that late afternoon. And each time it was pouring rain and freezing. Benny wears a sweater and coat, but still shivers at 65 degrees. So, in spite of being miserable, he’s determined to stay hidden.

I get frantic with worry when this happens.

The first night that I called the station, Officer Scott Leger came here. Thank God Benny got scared seeing a stranger in his territory and barked. That stormy night the officer, who got drenched, went right through the sopping wet, massive overgrowth to get to Benny.

The second time, after a four-hour search, Officer Jake White came. As I was crying with appreciation, he said that a kind soul had recently helped him with his dog, so he was “paying it forward.” I couldn’t have been more grateful to both men.

My new lifetime career? Making Benny visible. Wait until you here this.

It all started with a bell. But no ― not any old little bell. A cowbell is what I needed. I swear you can hear Benny jingle-jangling from a mile away. Did I stop at that? You know me; of course not.

I then called the amazing Geek Squad, and asked my favorite geek, Cassidy, for any technology that could help. She found the incredible Tile Pro at Best Buy.

When Benny does his disappearing act, I tap on the Tile Pro app on my cell phone, then tap on the “Find” button, at which point ― get this ― loud music resounds from a tiny pendant on his collar.

I know you’re saying, “Saralee, what are you doing to your poor little dog?” I’m not hurting him! I promise! He doesn’t even notice that he’s wearing a cowbell and a boombox.

So, did I stop at that? What the heck do you think?

I hear you saying, “Put your dog on a leash ― even in your big fenced-in backyard.” I do. And I will until I can guarantee his findability. But my spinal cord injury gets in the way of me walking and Bob’s out of shape, physically and mentally. So I’m driven to find the solution.

Okay. Here we go. Phase three. It’s the most astonishing techno-gizmo of all: From Noxgear. The LightHound. Just wait until I tell you about this.

It’s a small harness with dazzling multicolored strobing lights as bright as an entire sky filled with blinding, pulsating, polychromatic lightning bolts.

All right. All right. I’m feeling really defensive. So I have to tell you: Benny digs it. He doesn’t care that he could light up Gillette Stadium.

With Benny’s flashing strobe lights, his supersonic sound system, and that clanging cockamamie cowbell, my once-serene wooded back yard is now a loud, garish disco palace right out of "Saturday Night Fever." Even John Travolta would be astounded.

And so, as I am writing this column to you, little Benny is sleeping next to my desk, safe (and soundless at the moment). Soon I’ll be under the blankets with him ― feeling the tenderness of his small precious face on my shoulder.

I’ll tell you, though, between the flashing bright lights, and the blasting music, my pupils are in a constant state of dilation and my hearing’s shot.

Award-winning columnist, Saralee Perel, lives in a very bright and very loud home in Marstons Mills. She can be reached at: sperel@saraleeperel.com. Her column runs the first Friday of each month.

This article originally appeared on Cape Cod Times: Perel column: Find-my-dog app reveals where mischievous pet is hiding