My dog always gets the best revenge…
I never thought I’d say this, but Buddy, my golden retriever, is a mastermind of revenge. Not in a scary way—more of a “funny-you messed up, so I’m going to get you back later” kind of way. And let me tell you: he always wins.
It started small. One afternoon, I was working from home, headphones on, trying desperately to meet a deadline. Buddy, bored and desperate for attention, nudged my foot. I ignored him. A little later, I got up for coffee, not noticing his water bowl was half-empty. He followed me around, whining pitifully. Still ignored. Finally I filled the bowl. No apologies, no extra pets. Just me, coffee, and work.
That evening, I came back to the desk to find something odd: my keyboard had been relocated. Not just moved—it was lifted, shifted diagonally, wrapped in his favorite squeaky toy, and bits of shredded paper tucked underneath like some kind of canine installation artwork. It was a statement. Buddy had been ignored—and now he’d made sure I felt it.
The Escalation
Over the next few weeks Buddy’s revenge came in many forms:
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Shredded socks: One morning I couldn’t find my favorite clean socks. He had hidden them beneath the couch and occasionally pulled one out to chew at, in plain sight.
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Stealth snatches: He’d quietly steal food off the counter when I left the room. Not because he was hungry (he isn’t), but as a prank—dragging off a dinner roll or crumb, leaving me with crumbs to clean.
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Bathroom sabotage: One night I left the toilet seat up. Buddy waited until I was asleep, snuck in, flipped the lid with his nose, and let water splash down when I foolishly didn’t put it back. Revenge of the toilet.
Each time, I’d discover the damage, sigh, clean up, but laugh. Because it was always gentle. Never dangerous, never truly angry. Just Buddy making sure I remembered that I messed up.
The Moment of Realization
The turning point was when I was sick and stayed in bed all day. Buddy stayed by my side, drooping, making soft happy sounds. Then when I dozed off for a nap, I woke to find my glasses on the floor—his little “peace offering.” He’d brought them to me. It hit me: those small acts of mischief were his way of balancing the scales—but his love was unquestionable.
