I kicked my dog out of his doghouse… I regretted it!
I never thought I would be the kind of person who’d do something like that. But one cold evening, after days of work stress and feeling overwhelmed, I snapped. My dog, Baxter—a golden retriever with more loyalty than I deserved—sat trembling in his doghouse as the wind whipped around the yard. I walked up, lifted him gently by the scruff (though more out of frustration than concern), and told him, “Get out. Outside. Away from this place.” He obeyed. He left the doghouse and sat in the yard under the patio roof, where rain threatened to soak him if it came.
He looked back at his doghouse, head tilted, ears down, eyes full of confusion. I walked away.
The Regret Begins
That night, I couldn’t sleep. Images of Baxter alone in the damp yard flicked through my mind. The settling of the house sounded hollow without him curled up by my bedroom door. Guilt gnawed at me louder than the thunder rolling outside. Every knock (of rain, of wind, of tree branch) made me worry: was he okay where I left him?
I realized: the doghouse wasn’t just shelter or a kennel; it was his safe space. A place where he curled up, felt protected. By removing him from it, by pushing him away, I wasn’t just imposing punishment—I was violating trust.
Trying to Fix Things
At 2 AM, I slipped on my coat and went out. Baxter was there, lying under the patio overhang, ears down, shivering slightly. I knelt and called him softly. He didn’t come at first—he sat still, heart pounding, eyes wary. But then he stood, shook off leaves, and leaned into me. I wrapped him in a towel, carried him inside, and let him curl up next to me on the couch, even though I—stupidly—said no dogs on the furniture when I was in the mood for rules.
I whispered apologies into his fur, stroked his ears. I promised I’d do better.
What I Learned
The next morning, Baxter greeted me with a wagging tail, eyes bright, forgiving. He went back to his doghouse, lay inside with dignity—as though accepting my apology without words.
From that night forward, I treated that doghouse with respect. I made sure it was dry, warm, comfortable. I even added a nice blanket. And I learned something important: dogs don’t need perfection. They need consistency. They need kindness—even when I’m not feeling kind myself.
I kicked my dog out of his doghouse… and I regretted it. But I’m thankful for the reminder: real love means making things right when you mess up. Even the small ones.
