I Live in Luxury Homes Rent-Free as a Traveling Pet Sitter

Before leaving on their four-week European vacation, my hosts warned me about their dog’s compulsion for hoovering up discarded marijuana butts and other dangerous substances, so I was on alert during our daily walks through their Santa Cruz neighborhood. I hadn’t racked up 22 five-star pet sitting reviews by being a slacker. One day, as we prepared to cross the street, the pup snatched up something I couldn’t identify.

“Drop it!” I demanded.

She chomped down, sending bursts of an unidentifiable white powder from both sides of her mouth before spitting a small foil packet onto the sidewalk. My panic rose. Gone were my plans for a leisurely stroll, replaced with visions of a heartstopping race to the emergency veterinarian. We raced back to the house, where I grabbed a pair of rubber gloves and carefully opened the crushed foil packet, on which I could just barely make out a few words: Non-dairy creamer. Phew.

As a full-time traveling house and pet sitter, I’ve cared for 18 dogs, 14 cats, several gardens, three hermit crabs, two turtles, and one sourdough starter, mostly without drama. I’ve driven more than 6,000 miles up and down the West Coast, from the vineyards of San Luis Obispo, California to the rocky coast of San Juan Island, Washington, and 23 towns in between. And while I typically prefer longer stays or “sits” of at least a few weeks or more, I’ve been known to stay just two nights for the right opportunity. One notable example of such an opportunity was a stunning seaside home clinging to a cliff overlooking Agate Passage on Bainbridge Island, Washington, where I stayed in exchange for feeding a 17-year-old black Maine coon cat named Salem, who mostly ignored me.

I was first bitten by the travel bug when my dad took me to Hawaii at age six. Later, at 15, he supported my high school trip to what was then the Soviet Union. In my 20s, I traveled the US in a Volkswagen bus for three months visiting dozens of national parks, and in my 30s, led a group of teenagers on an academic trip through Italy and Greece. Later, as a single mom turned empty nester working remotely, I had the time and opportunity to travel freely once more—but I didn’t have the budget.

Learning about house and pet sitting in exchange for accommodations was a game changer. After exploring a variety of platforms, I decided to invest $135 in a basic annual membership with TrustedHousesitters, a global community with more than 7,000 house and pet sitting opportunities. Within days, I’d booked my first weekend stay with two cats in a charming seaside town just a short drive and ferry ride from Seattle. After meeting the homeowners via video call, I was good to go, arriving after the homeowners had left for a trip.

That first sit was fine, but not great. The cats were easy and the garden was gorgeous, but the house was a bit grungy, and the guest room unwelcoming. Since then, I’ve set my sights a bit higher, only applying to stay at properties with lots of pictures and excellent reviews from other sitters. And I always ask a lot of questions during introductory video calls.

As a freelance writer working remotely, I spent the next few months traveling around the Puget Sound on short sits, building my reputation with positive reviews from pet owners, and sharpening my packing and organizational skills.

The more time I spent away from home, the harder it was to justify paying nearly $2,500 a month for rent. Then I lost my job and the decision was easy: I gave up my apartment, put my stuff in storage, and went on the road full-time.

In the year since, I’ve saved nearly $30,000 in rent while staying in luxury waterfront homes that I otherwise could never afford. I’ve strolled along private beaches, cooked in chef’s kitchens, soaked in outdoor hot tubs, sweated in Swedish saunas, and avoided making eye contact with in-home gyms. Comparable accommodations would have likely cost more than $70,000 if I booked them on Airbnb, but in exchange for my services as a pet sitter, they cost me nothing.

That’s not to say my annual expenses are $0. I typically buy my own food and toiletries, and have spent about $2,300 on bridge stays—hotels or Airbnbs—in between sits during the past year. But I’m spending a lot less than I used to, and seeing so many beautiful places at the same time.

But that’s not the only benefit. Since I started pet sitting, I’ve also met many kind and creative people: weavers, writers, musicians, painters, tile artists, and more, many of whom are retired and aging adventurously while cruising the Mediterranean or biking the hills of France.

One couple—now friends—welcomed me to a pet sit with fresh negronis and a traditional Japanese hot pot dinner, curated several bottles of wine for me from their personal cellar, and returned bearing gifts at the end of the sit. I’ve pet sit for them on two occasions, and their energetic cattle dog Wasabi was a great companion who napped nearby while I spent hours writing until it was time for both of us to stretch our legs and head outside for a game of fetch. I’ll soon be headed back for my third visit to this spectacular home overlooking the Salish Sea on Lummi Island, Washington.

The least glamorous part of housesitting is the end-of-sit clean. As a perfectionist who loves to earn a five-star review, I’ve learned the hard way to give myself plenty of time to return the home to at least the condition I found it in, if not better.

Once, I was nearly finished vacuuming at the end of a 10-day sit with a handsome little West Highland white terrier who rang a bell when he needed to go outside, and had already logged 10,000 steps while cleaning that morning. The homeowners weren’t due back for at least an hour, so I stripped down to leggings and a sports bra to finish up. That’s when I heard the terrier barking—something he hadn’t done during my entire visit. I quickly ran downstairs and right into the homeowners, whom I hadn’t met before. Awkward! Shortly thereafter, in my embarrassment, I managed to walk off with their mail key and had to FedEx it back the following week.

But the pros of house and pet sitting life still outweigh the cons for me, awkward moments and all. The luxurious homes, reduced cost of living, and new experiences are all wonderful, but when it comes down to it, this lifestyle is all about the satisfaction of building trust with animals, keeping them out of stressful kennels, and providing their humans with peace of mind while they’re out of town. Pet sitting isn’t for everyone, but for me, the ability to travel extensively while providing a service I feel good about is truly a dream come true.

Want more Thrillist? Follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, and YouTube.