The Great Dog Smell Scam: How We Outsmarted the New Homeowners
Every dog lover needs to hear this wild story. My husband and I thought we’d sold our sparkling-clean home without a hitch—until the new owners sent us a ridiculous letter, blaming our “stinky” dogs for ruining their carpets and demanding $10,000! Oh, it gets better.
The Perfect Home (and the Perfect Dogs)
My name is Valerie, and until last year, I thought the hardest part of selling our dream home would be saying goodbye to the memories. I was wrong. The hardest part was dealing with the entitled new owners who acted like buying a house came with a lifetime warranty—and a personal butler.
My husband, Jonathan, and I had spent three years turning our house in Willowbrook Heights into a high-tech paradise. Everything was spotless, automated, and gleaming. And yes, we had two dogs—Muffin and Biscuit—who were treated like royalty. Weekly professional grooming, organic food, luxury beds… these pups lived better than most people.
When we decided to move for Jonathan’s job, we made sure the house was immaculate for the new owners. We hired professional cleaners, steamed the carpets, sanitized the air ducts—everything.
As we did our final walkthrough, I turned to Jonathan and said, “This place smells like a luxury spa.”
He grinned. “Better than a spa! At least Muffin and Biscuit won’t judge the new owners for their terrible yoga poses.”
We laughed, handed over the keys, and drove off, thinking we’d left everything in perfect condition.
Enter: “Yoga Barbie and Yoga Ken”
Three weeks later, we got the letter.
It arrived in a fancy cream-colored envelope, written in the kind of handwriting that screams, “I overpay for green juice.”
Inside? Pure insanity.
“Dear Previous Owners,
I hope this finds you well (though I am certainly NOT). We’ve moved in, and… WOW. I SMELL YOUR STINKY DOGS!!! This is NOT the energy I envisioned. Total vibe killer. The carpet reeks, and I literally CANNOT meditate without feeling nauseous. Do you understand how this disrupts my spiritual alignment?
We had to rip out ALL the carpeting. The energy here is TOXIC. I didn’t spend this much money to live in a kennel.
We expect $10,000 in compensation. I’m sure you understand. We’re homeowners now, and we have STANDARDS.
Namaste,
Mrs. CampbellP.S. – My husband says the smell is affecting his hot yoga recovery time.”
I read it three times before calling Jonathan.
“Honey, you need to see this.”
He took one look at my face and asked, “Did Muffin chew your shoes again?”
“Worse.” I handed him the letter.
His expression went from confusion to volcanic rage in seconds.
“TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS?! For a smell that DOESN’T EXIST?!”
“Apparently, we’ve ruined her ‘spiritual alignment’ and his ‘hot yoga recovery,’” I said.
Revenge Mode: Activated
We called our realtor, Jennifer, who burst out laughing.
“Oh, honey,” she said, “I was in that house every other day. It smelled like lemons and success. These people are scamming you.”
“So what do we do?” I asked.
“You tell them exactly where they can shove their $10,000 demand.”
But Jonathan had a better idea.
“Remember how we never disconnected from the smart home app?”
A slow, devious smile spread across his face.
Operation: Thermostat Terror
That night, Jonathan became a digital prank master. He started small—just bumping the thermostat up three degrees at 2 AM.
“You sure this is a good idea?” I asked.
“Val,” he said, grinning, “Yoga Barbie wants to steal $10,000 because of imaginary dog smells. I’m just helping her and Yoga Ken ‘enlighten’ themselves through suffering.”
The Chaos Begins
The next morning, we got our first call.
“This is Mrs. Campbell,” a shrill voice snapped. “Your house is BROKEN. The thermostat went crazy last night—we woke up SWEATING like we’d been in hot yoga for 12 hours! My husband’s man-bun was DRIPPING!”
“Oh no!” I said, pretending to be shocked. “Have you tried… adjusting your chakras?”
She hung up.
Night Two: Jonathan dropped the temperature to arctic levels at 4 AM.
Day Two: Another call.
“YOUR HOUSE TRIED TO FREEZE US TO DEATH!” she screamed. “My husband was so stiff he couldn’t even do child’s pose!”
“How strange!” I mused. “Maybe the house is just… adjusting to your energy?”
Silence. Priceless.
The Legend of the Ghost Dogs
For two weeks, Jonathan tortured them—heat waves at midnight, icebox chills at dawn.
Mrs. Campbell called daily, sounding more unhinged each time.
“THE THERMOSTAT IS POSSESSED!” she wailed. “I think I have YOGA PTSD!”
Jennifer later told us the Campbells had hired three HVAC technicians—none could find anything wrong.
Best part? Mrs. Campbell started telling people the house was haunted by dog spirits. She burned sage, did cleansing rituals, and her husband slept in the garage because the temperature swings were “disrupting his masculine energy.”
The Sweet Ending
Eventually, they reset the system and locked us out. But the damage was done.
Six months later, I ran into Mrs. Campbell at the grocery store. She looked exhausted, clutching sage bundles like her life depended on it.
“How’s the house?” I asked sweetly.
She shuddered. “Fine… mostly. But sometimes I still feel… a presence.”
I smiled. “Maybe next time, don’t demand $10,000 for imaginary dog smells.”
Her face went white.
When I got home, I gave Muffin and Biscuit extra treats. “You’re famous,” I told them. “You’re now legendary ghost dogs.”
Jonathan raised his coffee mug in a toast. “Here’s to the best revenge ever served—by smart home technology.”
Moral of the Story
Never mess with dog lovers. And never mess with people who still have control of the thermostat.
So, tell me—have you ever dealt with entitled people who thought your money was theirs for the taking? Share your stories! There’s nothing like a good revenge tale to warm the heart… or freeze someone out of their own home. 😉