 It wasn't, just a puppy. You found the best place, for your vengeful needs. A dog will love you more than you love yourself. We are the center of their universe, the focus of their love, faith and trust. Many consider dogs family. And when their furry family members are harmed, it's no longer about vengeance. To them, it becomes justice. These are their personal stories. Before we start, teach the like button, how you make a pencil disappear. Naturally, viewer discretion is advised. These true revenge stories might be disturbing to people who thought it was just a puppy. This happened when I was like five years old and my dad told me the whole thing. When I was a cute young boy, I had the best and smartest dog that I ever had. His name was Brian and he was an old German shepherd that my family got from a nice old lady, because she couldn't take care of him anymore. As I said, he was smart. For example, if my little two-year-old sister got outside, my dog would drag her inside the house again. Or when I escaped from home to play in the woods, I was a savage kid, he would just guide me back to my home at night, and a lot more things like that. I love that dog so much, sadly he passed away from cancer when I was like 10 years old. So here goes the story. I also had, and also still have, a crappy uncle. Let's call him Crappy. Crappy was, and is, a piece of garbage, a parasite, he steals from his own family, and not only things or money, but he also stole a song that my dad wrote and actually sold the rights to it. He also used to drink a lot during family reunions and was terrible with kids. And boy, did he terrorized me, he screamed at me, he joked horribly at me and his favorite thing, knowing how much I loved my dog, was to threaten me by saying, I'm gonna end, you're freaking dog. My dad noticed and hit him once, telling him to stop, but he didn't. So one day, I was in the house of my grandma, and my mom and dad went to the market for something. Then Crappy arrived and saw me. So he immediately went after me screaming he would end my dog. I got scared, burst out crying and started to run away from him through the house, all the while he persecutes me, repeating himself over and over again. Then I saw it in all of its glory, behind a wardrobe, my other's uncle shotgun. I grabbed it. I was very big for my age so I could handle its weight, and then I aimed at Crappy and said the coolest thing that I ever said. Who are you going to end? And boy, he ran outside the house and fell to the ground, I repeated myself over and over while running after him. Who are you going to end? In that moment the cute kid was gone, I was full of rage. I remember him going into a full blown panic, because he screaming like an ape as he ran and crawled under a car. Then people started to get involved, and when someone tried to get the gun, I just pointed at them screaming in rage. Who are you going to end? I would only repeat this over and over again, like it was a mantra. And then I saw my dad, and all the blind rage went away. I dropped the gun and started to cry like the little and traumatized kid that I was. My dad screamed my name and took the shotgun away from me. My mom grabbed me while my dad opened the shotgun, then he saw my uncle, he looked at me again, and looked the shotgun one more time. It was loaded. He said. Crappy screamed in horror one more time, and started yelling at my dad. My dad just said. This all was your fault, I told you, stop terrorizing the kid, but you just couldn't stop, right? Just shut up. I'm using all my strength to not dupe you in the face right now. Crappy never threatened me or my dog again. I don't know how the police didn't get involved. The funny part? The shotgun wasn't loaded at all. Background information. My family is a family of three, middle class, and we grew up in a nice area. Nothing too fancy, nothing terrible. Just your typical suburbia with neighborhood parks, churches, and schools all within walking distance. We were nice to our neighbors and all knew each other. My parents had an outdoor fire pit that they liked to sit outside on the back patio and drink, listen to music, grill, and relax outside. My family is very respectful of rules so the music was almost never loud, we don't throw parties, and we kept mainly to ourselves but invited people over occasionally. When I was in eighth grade we had some new next door neighbors move in. They were a family of four, mom, dad, son, daughter. The son was a year older than me and the daughter was a year younger than me. The daughter and I hit it off immediately as friends, but I noticed something was off when I would go over. For the purpose of secrecy I will change their names, let's call them the Smiths. The Smiths had a weird idea of how to interact with people. I get it, everyone is different. They were very blunt and open about everything. Never would say, thank you, didn't think about others. They just turned out to be scum of the earth when it came to treating other people with dignity and respect. Just weird people, but I guess it takes all kinds. Onto our lovely furry friend. My family had a medium-sized besenji that my dad had trained very well. When I was a junior in high school, daughter Smith really wanted to have a new dog. Daughter Smith basically got whatever she wanted, being the younger sibling and could do no wrong. So mother Smith got her a beautiful German shepherd. I'll call the dog Turdy. Now Turdy really isn't the one to blame. The Smiths never corrected the dog so it's honestly no surprise that Turdy never behaved. The dog grew up doing whatever he wanted. He was constantly off the leash in the front yard, tried to pick fights with my dog, in the backyard he was always trying to dig under the fence or in some places tried to knock the fence down. Turdy was obsessed with running the fence line with my besenji, and just trying to get to him whenever we saw him. They got into a few dog fights when Turdy got loose, but I promise, it was never my dog's fault that this 80 pound sack of fur ran into our yard and picked a fight. A few years of this behavior go by in the Smiths and my family aren't friendly anymore. We would express to them that their dog was trying to get to our dog, that the fence was in bad shape, that my dad and I were constantly filling the holes under the fence, that their dog had dug. They just didn't care. My family went into their own pockets to replace three sections of fence and just doing that pissed them off. By the time we are absolutely fed up with it, I had gone off to university and was a sophomore. Now on to the actual story, a few days before Thanksgiving, Turdy dug yet another hole under the fence. Since I wasn't at home playing with the dog as much and my parents were fixated on getting Thanksgiving plans ready, no one noticed the hole. The Friday after Thanksgiving my parents were out relaxing in the backyard, the dogs were running the fence line and I was about to leave to go hang out with some old high school friends. I went outside to tell my parents that I was leaving, when we hear the most horrid yelp by any animal that I have ever heard. Turdy had dug far enough to put his head under the fence and bit the shit out of my dog. Half of his paw was torn almost completely off as well as some other things that I won't describe, because that would be too much. Long story short, we actually had to put my dog down because of it. Now, the Smiths refused to acknowledge what had happened. They never once said sorry, never once offered to pay any part of the medical bills, nothing. As far as they were concerned, we were the dead ones, not my dog. Enter revenge. By this point my family is pissed, and we have nothing but time on our hands. We devise our revenge over the course of a few months. It had to be gradual and cost them time, effort, money, and most importantly, make them feel like utter crap. First step, collect dog turds. I'll come back to that later. Second step, take them to court and get their dog classified as a dangerous dog. If you ever have the chance to look at the hoops you have to go through to keep a dangerous dog, you would know it's horrible. The requirements change depending on where you live but in our area. The dog had to be muzzled while outside. Never could be off a leash, pay fines, has to have a special crate in their backyard, which was hard for them, because they had a pool. Add random surprise inspections, and if the dog has another incident the dog has to be put down. To be clear, the goal wasn't to hurt the dog. Just make their life difficult for as long as the animal was alive. What was important for us, is that it set up a record with the city and police department. We slowly convinced our neighbors to call them in on every violation that they did for months. Park more than 18 inches off the curb? Ticket. Loud music past quiet hours? Ticket. Now, I know you're thinking that calling the cops and making them pay tickets isn't revenge and you're right. It was great cover though. We started to play our music loud right up till quiet hours every single night for three months. When they got fed up with it and tried to call the cops, there was nothing they could do. We'd politely explain that they have had a record of doing the same thing, and then they would get reprimanded instead. Third step, summer rolls around and now I'm home and working a nine to five job, so all of my nights are free. The Smith's son was working second shift at some restaurant, so he never got home until after midnight. During the summer in Texas, your car could reach 120F to the touch in midday. Point being, even at midnight the car was hot. The best part was that all of the Smith's cars were parked outside. My mom got this idea after one of her friends got pranked by putting glitter in the air vents, let defog your windows. We decided to step it up a notch. If you take frozen shrimp or fish, let it thaw for a day, get it nice and smelly, put it in a blender with a crap ton of water, then freeze it into ice cubes, you can imagine what that smells like when it thaws. One smelly freezer versus what we did. Totally worth it. Over the course of June, when anyone would check the mailbox, which was perfectly placed on the other side of the Smith's house, we would drop one of those nasty ice cubes into the defogger van of the son's car. Then halfway through June we started moving on to the mom's car. Like clockwork we would see them on weekends, trying to air out their cars all day, making it even easier to throw in ice cubes all summer. Remember that dog poo poo I told you about? Here's the fourth part. The daughter was a big swimmer all the time. Her parents never made her have a job, so all she would do is swim all day and night, if she wasn't hanging out with friends. My dad came up with the idea of poo poo bombs, when he bought a slingshot to shoot down Hornet's nests. After doing some yard work while still having gloves, he would load up that slingshot with a dog turd, shoot it over the fence and into their pool. At first it was only a couple of pieces, then it grew to a few more, by that point we had gotten another dog, and right before their big party, we unloaded the rest of the crap we had. The daughter and her friends were swimming for about two hours before they noticed questionable brownies floating in the pool. The fifth step took a lot longer to accomplish, their air conditioner was right on the other side of our fence. You could get on your tiptoes and see the unit less than five feet away. Remember those nasty ice cubes? We started throwing them on top of their unit and they would melt and eventually made the house smell. Then, instead of fishing the cubes, we slowly replaced them with gravel and sand. The sand and gravel would rattle around at night, causing them to not be able to sleep between the smell and the sound. Finally, they called out an AC repairman who tried to fix it. The AC guy basically told them he had no idea how sand and gravel ended up in the unit, but that it would eventually need to be replaced. The Smiths got suspicious and eventually put up cameras around their house. So we had to back off some. Final part, we wanted to move to a different city by the time I was almost graduated from college, so we were model citizens and just didn't talk to them. When our house did sell and we were moving out, I waited to check the mailbox until they were out in their front yard. I checked the mail and began my walk back home when they said something along the lines of, glad to see you move or good riddance. I stopped to turn at them, made a show of smelling the air and said, do you smell fish? Then smiled before walking back home. Their faces as they figured it out was priceless. Don't kill my dog, I'll fuck your shit up. The following story is told from a female perspective. Never spoke much about this revenge, but here it goes. I came home from a double shift at work, only to find someone had actually shot my two English mastiffs. Every one in my neighborhood knew it was my one neighbor, but no one could prove it. He would smirky make comments alluding to it, but never outright said he did it. I actually had very little interactions with this 50 year old prior to this. Most were very cordial. I know what most of you would say of think, but I'm not the explosive type. I'm patient, very patient. And I will wait a long time before I take my chance. I never make rash on the spot moves. I plan everything out. I would rather make your life hell through petty things for years, than make a big move that could get me in trouble. Almost every move I make is legal, or at least, it is because you cannot prove anything. I will admit, there are times I become borderline obsessive about things, but it's just how my brain works. I do think my own boyfriend is slightly scared of what I can do when I become like this. I don't like that, but at least he's not living in denial of my vindictiveness. So on to the story. Fast forward three years later. Everyone in the neighborhood hates this guy still. He is just a monster. This was just a first thing I did. I waited enough time, so I would not be the first suspect. I had a horse that fold sooner than I thought she would, was told she was due in December, she fold in August. After checking her placenta to make sure it was all there, she gave birth while I was at work, I was at a loss of what to do with the afterbirth. A few days later, I see this bootyhole neighbor put up a beautiful brand new white front door. I immediately knew what I was going to do. Middle of the night, I used two ice hooks, carried this massively heavy placenta to the front of his house. And heave that blob right on his door. All I could see was a dark blob at the upper half of the door, all the way down. He had a new door put up the next day. This wasn't all, what he did was unforgivable. You see, he had a very cushy job at Lockheed Martin. So one opportunity fell into my lap, when some confidential material was accidentally left in my mailbox, instead of his, I turned it into a win. It wasn't anything groundbreaking, but internal stuff from Lockheed Martin, which they certainly didn't want out. Mostly payroll stuff. He might have close ties with city employees, but government is my bread and butter. I contacted them and said that I was at a bar with him, and he was just bragging about the new aviation budget, and how he makes more than someone they're 10 years longer. He drinks on the job, etc. He got fired from his job. Next opportunity was when his mother moved in with him shortly after. I befriended her as the super nice young lady with a family, and she bitches at him nonstop. His wife apparently left because his mother moved in. Last I heard, he was moving into a house big enough for all of them. That was a year ago, he still lives there. His mother thinks I am the sweetest thing ever. While I am waiting until she fully trusts me, then I'm going to tell her what he did to my dogs. He is more mellow now, but I still do shit to mess with him. He left letters in my mailbox, blaming me for his misfortune. He pleaded with me to stop, but then called me a bitch and prostitute in front of my then three year old. He is currently dealing with the city's water department, guess his connections don't go there, about having to pay for a new pipe. It technically is city side by an inch. But a few favors called and made that negligible. This took place way back in the sixth grade towards the end of the year. I live on the same street as this kid I will call Dan. I have a dog that is about seven years old and loves being outside to play with the neighbor kids during warm weather when everyone is out. Well, on some random day of the year, Dan must have been feeling edgy, because he came out of his house and attacked our dog with a plastic bat right in front of my sister. She ran into the house balling, telling us what just happened. We ran outside and picked up our dog and rushed him to the vet. After not too long of a wait, the vet came and told us that our dog was alive and that he should recover over the next week or two. Now my parents were angry, and they took this to Dan's parents, explaining what he did to our dog. They seemed to be understanding of the situation and told us that they were sorry, and that they would punish Dan severely. But I couldn't let this go, I was immensely furious. This didn't satisfy my anger towards Dan at all. Now here's the deal, I never really liked Dan. He was a bully at school, we were both in the same grade, but not necessarily towards me, but towards my close friends, and I guess I have been ignoring it for far too long. We were in the same grade and something the school does every year for the sixth graders, is to have a big science fair towards the end of the year and everybody tries to make these super elaborate projects. This is where I start my master plan. Once everyone was getting close to finishing their projects, I look around the classrooms to try and locate Dan's project. His is along the lines of some sort of aerodynamic rocket that travels really fast down a close line in a small amount of time. Perfect. I checked out the rocket and the rocket has a fuse. Too perfect. That night I go home and look at my firework inventory I had left over from last year's 4th of July. Sure enough, I still had a huge belt of firecrackers left, so I went over my plan on what to do. After school the next day, I dissected Dan's rocket and put in as many firecrackers as I could and made sure that they would be set off once the fuse was lit. I put everything back together as if no one had touched it at all. Skip ahead a few weeks and it's the day of the science fair. It took place in our gym and we were supposed to be next to our projects all morning, as judges came around to judge them. So from my point of view, I couldn't see where Dan was presenting, but I paid close attention to every noise in the gym. About a half an hour into the science fair, I heard an enormous explosion from one end of a gym and a loud crash. The blast was stronger than I thought. The rocket was obliterated along with Dan's hearing. One of the beams that held the close line fell over and broke some glass on some other poor kid's project. There was a lot of shouting and all of the adults rushed over to that end of the gym to see what had happened. I stood perfectly still. I just sat there giggling at my handy work, knowing how traumatized Dan must be. I felt no sympathy, only villainous satisfaction. So this happened last year to my Nan. She's happily living in her 70s and lives in Manchester, one street from my aunt's house. Two years ago, my Nan, who was looking after my aunt's dog as she was on holiday, took the dog Bonnie for a walk. Bonnie is a wippet, greyhound like gorgeous dog with a black and white dotted pattern, could never hurt a fly, dog, human or anything else for that matter. Whilst on that walk, through the field near her house where she went every time, she saw a Staffordshire bull terrier. This dog was unmuzzled and off lead. Like most dogs, this dog approached Bonnie who was on her lead. Suddenly, completely unprovoked, it attacked grabbing poor Bonnie's leg. Bonnie was completely helpless until my Nan stepped in, attacking the Staffordshire until it would let go, even hurting herself in the process due to her chronic arthritis. Eventually, the dog let go and ran off to its owner, who was completely useless in the situation. She apologized to my Nan, which meant nothing to her, as she was distraught, and a stranger who witnessed the attack helped to put her in a car to the vets. My Nan sat with Bonnie the next 10 hours and unfortunately, Bonnie lost her leg. My aunt and her family returned home the next day in a wreck as well seeing their dog. The following weeks had a court case which decided the fate of the Staffordshire and the owner. The decision you ask? To pay for the vets bills over a period of time. Bullshit. My Nan and Ant were livid rightly. It was revenge time, surely. Over the following week, my Nan and Ant posted about the incident online, including pictures of the owner and the dog who attacked my Nan, as well as pictures of Bonnie, leaving her as a local criminal. She had her house egg that Halloween, toilet roll scattered over her lawn to the point where she had installed CCTV. On top of this, my Nan put posters up of the dog with wording, beware, dangerous dog and neglectful owner. Eventually, the owner moved from her house to a new location about two miles from her old home. Trying to get away from it all. Unfortunately last year, about 11 months after the attack, Bonnie passed away due to a decline in health following the attack. My Nan has been left traumatized and fearing of dogs, even though she has been the most dog-loving woman I've ever met. Justice has not been served, however as recently, the vet bills stopped coming through. My family are currently planning on what the next step should be but as of now, the owner and dog have got away with it but were blacklisted from the local community. This took place about 9-10 years ago after a work-related back injury. I was on workers' comp and had a ton of free time and severe back pain. I decided to give the devils let us a try for the first time in several years. I live in CA and it was legal to use pot here with a doctor's recommendation. Right before all of this, I moved into a cheap little apartment in a not-so-great part of the city. I was naive, and didn't realize that I was surround by meth addicts. I'm a musician and one of my neighbors was a fellow guitarist, Tim. We bonded pretty quickly over music and smoking. Things were going fine with my new place until our landlord, Cindy, got into a huge blowout with Tim over their illegal plant growing operation. Those idiots were growing hundreds of plants in the empty units without any permits or the consent of the owner. I don't know what really happened between them because the stories kept changing, but the fight was basically over money. Cindy was a woman in her 50s, but turned into a junior high school bully and set out to turn everyone against him. She first tried to get me on her side by giving me a lot of pot. When that didn't work, she started vandalizing my property and framed Tim for it. I became furious at him and confronted him about what was happening. We got into a huge shouting match and he called me, someone who has never used a drug in her life, unless you count pot, a meth head. His insult was especially ridiculous because he was an active meth user. After that incident, Tim would bang on my front door at all hours of the night, would yell racist slurs and insults at me and it even escalated to him trying to kick my puppy. The final straw was when he ran up to me while I was outside and threw a huge bucket of hot water on me, my puppy and my phone. My dog was fine and after placing my phone in a bag of uncooked rice, it was fine too. I, on the other hand, was beyond livid. Here is where the vengeful brainwave entered my thoughts and took over. I talked to a friend, Chris, about what was going on at my place and we concocted a plan. Since Cindy wanted me on her side, she gave me lots of information about Tim, including his cell number, which I gave to Chris. He started calling Tim several times a day. Chris also started parking his car in visible places near the apartment complex. I began talking to the other neighbors and fed them information about mysterious cars and people watching the apartment complex. I knew the info would get back to Tim without me having to do very much. Tim became more and more paranoid and got to the point that he finally asked me, of all people, if I had noticed anything strange. I told I had been seeing a strange car nearby with people just watching his apartment. He tried to give a half-ass apology for what he'd done, and asked me to let him know if I saw anything else. As a good neighbor, of course I agreed. He said he didn't know if it was the cops or a gang following or watching him. I shrugged as if I didn't know. After about two weeks of Chris volunteering his free time to help me with my revenge, it all came to a head. One day, Tim hopped into his car and started driving. I was on the phone with Chris, as he gave me the play-by-play. Chris started following Tim. Tim tried to lose Chris by turning into a grocery store parking lot down the street. Chris jumped out of his car and used a firearm to shoot into the air and all hell broke loose. I seriously had no idea he even carried a firearm. Chris then chased him a few miles down the road until I was finally able to get him to stop and go home. I was worried he'd be arrested so I called everything off, but it didn't matter at that point. Tim was now convinced that they were trying to get to him or somehow steal his plan operation. A couple of days later, Cindy asked if I was interested in moving into Tim's apartment, which was slightly bigger than mine. I asked what was going on and she told me that Tim was moving out of state, and that she was getting rid of their growing operation ASAP. By this time, I found out that she had been responsible for starting the fight between Tim and I. I was already looking for another place to live, so I declined and instead found the phone numbers for the complex owner and his son. I told them everything about their activities. I also called the power company to let them know about the illegal power usage for the empty units. I'm not sure what happened with the power company, but when I called to inquire about an available apartment a few months later, I found out that the new landlord was one of my old neighbors. Cindy still lived in the complex, but was no longer in charge. I settled my workers comp case a few weeks later and moved on. Although this was a very turbulent, but short time in my life, it taught me many valuable lessons. You stayed till the end, which means you're the one I make these episodes for. I want to take this moment, to thank you, I really appreciate you. Remember that these stories really happened, and people chose to share it with us. So I ask you to be respectful in the comment section. I guess that'll be it. So I'll see you in the next one.