I Kicked My Dog Out of His Doghouse… I Regretted It!
It started with a squirrel. A single, bold squirrel that thought it owned our backyard. My Golden Retriever, Max, believed otherwise.
Max had a mission: protect his kingdom. Every day, he launched into full-blown guard mode—barking, chasing, and knocking over anything in his way, including flower pots, a garden gnome, and once… my mother-in-law’s folding chair.
But last Saturday was the final straw.
That morning, I walked outside to find Max had torn up his entire doghouse trying to catch that same squirrel. Shingles were everywhere. His water bowl was flipped. His bed was shredded. And the squirrel? Sitting smugly in a tree, munching a peanut like it had front-row seats to the chaos.
Frustrated and sleep-deprived (because Max barked all night), I snapped. I pointed to the wreckage and said, “That’s it, Max. You’re OUT!”
He tilted his head like, “Excuse me?”
I repeated myself. “You’re not staying in this doghouse until you learn how to behave.”
So I closed the door. Locked it. And Max stood there… stunned.
At first, he tried pawing at it. Then he let out one of those heartbreaking little whimpers. I ignored it. I was firm. I was in control.
…or so I thought.
An hour later, I looked outside. Max wasn’t at the doghouse. He wasn’t in the yard. Panic.
I ran outside, calling his name. Nothing. I raced down the block, checked under cars, asked neighbors—nothing. I was sweating, frantic, and feeling horrible. What kind of person kicks their dog out and loses him?
Thirty minutes later, I found him. Curled up behind the shed… shivering, with his favorite torn-up toy between his paws. He looked up at me like, “I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”
That moment shattered me.
I scooped him up, hugged him tight, and whispered, “I’m so sorry, buddy.” He licked my face, like he had already forgiven me.
That night, Max didn’t sleep in the doghouse. He slept inside, curled at the foot of my bed, snoring softly. And that squirrel? Still in the tree, probably laughing.
But I’d learned my lesson.
Never let frustration get the better of love. And never, ever kick a dog out of his house—especially when all he’s trying to do is protect yours.
