A Day in the Life of a Professional Pet Sitter

Ever wonder what being a pet sitter or dog walker is like?

I’ve been a pet sitter for 15 years now. Let me tell you — it’s not your typical job. I have enough stories to write a novel (or maybe a sitcom). But if I had to summarize a “typical” day when I was in the field full time, it would look a little something like this:

5:30 AM:

Alarm goes off after a night of tossing, turning, and checking your phone 47 times to make sure you didn’t actually oversleep and miss your first visit. Spoiler: you didn’t. 

5:50–6:15 AM:

Quickly feed and potty your own animals while doing the “where-is-my-uniform-shirt” dance. One sock on, one sock missing, hair barely brushed. Chug coffee like it's a life-saving potion. Off we go.

6:30 AM:

Driving to your first visit. The roads are quiet. It’s just you, the sunrise, and your playlist that’s 50% podcasts and 50% 2000s throwbacks.

7:00–7:30 AM:

Dog Visit #1: You’re greeted like a celebrity. There’s jumping, tail-wagging, and one rogue toy thrown at your kneecaps. Potty break, breakfast, belly rubs. Oh, and you just stepped in something suspicious on the way back inside. Bonus points if it’s raining.

Drive Time:

Traffic is waking up. So is your road rage.

8:00–8:30 AM:

Dog Visit #2: This pup prefers a calm walk and slow pacing. You respect that. Also, you now have 17 dog hairs stuck to your lip balm.

9:00 AM:

You sit in your car for a few glorious moments. Respond to client emails, scroll social media, wonder if you’ve had any water today. You haven’t.

10:00 AM–1:00 PM:

The mid-day madness. Back-to-back dog walks, each one blurrier than the last. You’re basically a hydration-deprived, sunburnt blur with a poop bag in each pocket. Yet, you wouldn’t want to do anything else. 

1:00 PM:

STARVING. Scarf down something in your car that barely qualifies as food. It’s fine. You’ve eaten worse. Like the time you accidentally bit into a dog treat because it looked like a granola bar. 

1:30 PM:

Meet & Greet with a new client! You dress nicer (clean hoodie). You’re trying to be professional. The dog, however, is deeply interested in your personal space. Like… nose-up-your-butt interested. You try to talk about your services while the dog is inspecting you like TSA. The owner doesn’t even blink. Just says, “Oh, that means he likes you!”

2:30 PM:

Quick stop home to check on your own pets. They look at you like, “We see you loving other animals. We don’t like it. But we’ll allow it. For treats.”

3:00–5:00 PM:

More afternoon walks and dinner time visits. You’ve now walked approximately 87,000 steps and said “let’s go potty!” more times than you’ve spoken to another human today. It’s fine. You’re fine. The dogs are THRIVING.

5:30 PM:

Evening drop-ins begin. One dog requires medication hidden in cheese. One cat requires you to pretend you don’t see him at all until he makes first contact. You’re basically a professional at passive-aggressive animal diplomacy.

7:00 PM:

Last visit of the night. You’re tired, you smell like a combo of wet dog and peanut butter…satisfaction!

8:30 PM:

You finally get home. Collapse on the couch and cuddle your own pets. 

9:00 PM:

Brush teeth, crawl into bed, and immediately remember you never drank water today. Whatever. Set alarm for 5:30am. You live to walk again.