My parents had dogs and cats before I was born, so I've literally had animals my entire life. As a young adult living in NYC, I shared a small apartment with two dogs and two cats for nearly 20 years. They were the center of my world, and honestly, the most important things in my life. More than 30 years later, I still dream about them. I’ve always loved animals—every single one. I’ve traveled the world to encounter and marvel at them. I’m the person who will stop at nothing to rescue the baby squirrel, injured bird, or stray dog, and who tries to gently guide the errant bug back outside, even though it completely grosses me out. But beyond loving animals, I'm also a preternaturally mature, responsible adult. I’m 58 (my mom would argue I’ve been 58 since I was five), and I retired early, which means I'm home, unhurried, and genuinely available, aside from taking long walks, swimming, yoga, and social plans. Having spent decades relying on pet sitters and dog walkers myself, I understand firsthand what separates someone adequate from someone truly invaluable. You're not just trusting someone with your pets — you're trusting them with your home, your routines, and the beings you love most in the world. I take that seriously. I'm attentive, observant, communicative, and calm in a crisis. I notice when something seems off in your house, with your pet, or otherwise. At this point in my life, I don't want another pet of my own — the emotional effort and the inevitable heartbreak. What I do want is more animals in my days: the walks, the companionship, the silliness, the comfort. In many ways, I've become the grandparent option — thrilled to love, walk, spoil, and care for your pets wholeheartedly, then hand them back to you exhausted and adored.