At the start of the year, literally January 1st 2026, I set off on what I am going to call a journey of sustenance. I now write to you from my bed, where I've been grateful to rest my head for a steady three months, and reflect on the peace that has replaced my chronic panic.
If you read my slightly vulnerable post detailing how much I've made a year from starting freelancing, you were maybe left wondering how I was surviving life in Scotland. Or maybe you don't care, but you're the one here reading this so...
With the average salary being £33,000 over here, making only enough to dodge the tax man has helped me get creative with living. That's how I became a full time pet sitter. Before that happened I was already doing it part-time and learned that:
1. someone was always need of a sitter
2. strangers are often kinder than the people you know
With no place to stay and no means to afford a place to stay, pet sitting was the only feasible way I could foresee my future freelancing. It wasn't just about freelancing though. It was about not falling back into the trap of renting. The yearly contracts. Letting possessions weigh heavy on freedom. Not to get wordy, but that's how I felt every time I made base. However, having just survived the last 6 - 7 months and it ending in complete burn out (like full on crash out), I'm more than happy to be burdened with safety and security.
Full time pet-sitting is fucking hard.
Full time pet-sitting the way I was doing it, is fucking hard.
Full time pet-sitting the way I needed to do it was fucking hard.
And that's my saving grace. The words of kindness I tell myself when the feeling of failure creeps in (if it ever does leave).
"I did what I needed to do".
That's what I say when I start to beat myself up for not making full time pet sitting it work in a positive way. But I know it wasn't sustainable, and perhaps I have a high standard of living. I think that's alright.
Why was it so damn hard?
With each new house came:
a new location to get used to
a new routine, but not your routine, the hosts routine
a new layout in the house, one which once you understand it, it's time to move on
temporary living. Like, let's not use that bin because it's one less thing to clean when I leave
is the dog still alive?
oh, that shop doesn't like to open on a random Tuesday
WHERE'S THE DAMN SALT
Repeat.
Basically, just figuring out the basics to then completely reset, repack, drive 2 hours and start again for another 2 weeks. Exhausting.
Of course I feel bad complaining about this. I was getting to live for free, in beautiful homes I could never dream of affording, feeling like I was on holiday each time. Or a part-time holiday. People that I didn't even know welcomed me back for dinner, some were happy for me to come whenever I needed, even without the responsibility of pet-sitting. Others left their homes completely open, nothing to hide. Some even paid me.
Despite all of this, the only pro I could give for pet-sitting was that it was a free way of living. All the other elements were just knackering my nervous system without time to breathe. So, how did it give me everything? Well, it kept the highest cost of living down, whilst I built my business. I'm not saying I've worked that part out yet, I'm still relying on the kindness of others, and that feels disgusting, but having one solid base, my mind has become free to not just survive, but live.
I can make plans with friends
Do the things I love - climb, hike (well, almost), day trips to different rocks, walks, swim spots
Have a rest day without having to plan my next step
Build my relationships with clients and my business
From this base, I can give myself the head start I was looking for and come back to the house-sitting later. In a more sustainable way.
What's the cost? My pride in accepting help from others.
So for now, I'm rested, I'm stable and planning a whole lot of trips. Yippeeee.
