We recently sold our pristine smart home—professionally cleaned, carpet steamed, ductwork spotless. Our two pampered, house-trained dogs had never left a mess. Three weeks later, we got a letter from the new owner.
“We’ve moved in, and… wow. I smell your stinky dogs!!! This is not the energy I envisioned. Total vibe killer. ANYWAY, WE EXPECT $10,000 COMPENSATION.”
I called our realtor in a rage. She nearly choked laughing and said we didn’t owe them a dime and should forget it. But my husband had other plans. The house was smart—and we still had app access.
That night, he quietly logged in.
At exactly 3:00 a.m., every speaker in the house came to life with a gentle bark. Not loud. Just enough to be confusing. Five minutes later, another bark—this time from the upstairs hallway. Then the living room. Then the kitchen. The thermostat nudged down two degrees. The lights flickered on and off like someone pacing. The robot vacuum rolled out, bumped the bedroom door, and retreated.
The next morning, we got a furious email about “malfunctions.”
So he continued.
Random phantom dog sounds during Zoom calls. The smart fridge announcing, “Pet treat inventory low.” Motion alerts pinging the backyard at midnight. The scent diffuser switching to “wet grass.” The security system politely reminding them to “check on pets” that no longer existed.
Three days later, another message arrived—much less confident this time.
“Please stop accessing the system. We no longer want compensation. We just want peace.”
My husband reset everything, logged out for good, and mailed them a single note:
The dogs moved out.
The energy didn’t.
We never heard from them again.
