09/09/2025
My husband spent months convincing me we needed a "storage solution" for our tiny bedroom. I was thinking maybe some under-bed boxes from Target.
He disappeared into the garage every evening after work, sawing and hammering. "Just trust me," he'd say when I asked. The smell of wood stain started seeping into the house. I found receipts for LED strips and wondered what the hell he was building.
Then one weekend, he made me stay at my mom's. "Bedroom renovation," he said mysteriously. I came back to this.
Our entire bed was now a fortress of reclaimed wood with built-in dog kennels underneath. Not just kennels - illuminated little dens with their names carved above each entrance. The headboard stretched to the ceiling with shelves for my plants. Everything I'd mentioned wanting "someday" was suddenly there.
"The dogs were sleeping in their crates anyway," he explained, watching my face. "Now they're part of the furniture. Literally."
Our three rescues immediately claimed their spots. The anxious one who used to panic in her crate? She went straight into her den and fell asleep. It was like he'd built them their own little apartments under our bed.
I found the plans later, sketched on napkins from his lunch breaks. Measurements for each dog's favorite sleeping position. Notes about my favorite plants. He'd even joined a woodworking group on Tedooo app to figure out the lighting system, then ended up buying custom name plaques from someone there.
My sister said it looked like we were sleeping on a wooden ship. My mother asked if we'd joined a cult. But every night, I fall asleep to the soft breathing of three dogs who finally feel safe, in a bed my husband built because he actually listens when I talk.
Sometimes love looks like a bedroom that's half furniture, half dog hotel. And sometimes that's exactly perfect.