At last we solved the mystery of the canine agoraphobe. It turns out that Cady the Terrible's sudden fear of the outdoors stemmed from the incredibly faint sound of gunfire from a shooting range several miles away from our house. The reason this hasn't ever been an issue in her previous stays and the reason she was only occasionally terrified of the outdoors during this stay is that the sound is so incredibly faint that it can only be heard at all when the leaves are down, and a North wind gently wafts the gentle BANG BANG BANG through bare branches across a quiet, frozen lake.
As for why this incredibly faint sound terrifies Cady the Formerly Terrible Now Just Cowardly, your guess is as good as mine. And this still doesn't explain her stone-cold dread of The Horror That Is The Washing Machine. But, hey, the last time we ruined her she needed to get an ACL replaced, so dropping a few neurotic complexes on her is only a mild ruination by comparison.
On the bright side, my Mom and Dick finally returned from their cruise and picked up their ruined dog. Soon Cady will be back in the safety of Glens Falls, where the firing ranges are well out of floppy-earshot, the washing machine is properly banished to the far off washroom, and the snacks and treats flow like milk and honey.
My final thought on The Mystery of the Canine Agoraphobe?
"We would have gotten away with it, too, it it wasn't for you meddling kids!"