In The Begining

Excerpt from Other People’s Pets: Critters, Careers, and Capitalism in Yellowstone Country

I started taking care of other people’s pets for the same reason most people have side hustles: extra money.

Back in the 1990s, critter sitting income helped me launch my singer/songwriter career and produce my first album. In the early 2000s, it supplemented my income during a four-year-long search for a full-time job during the financial crisis created by the subprime mortgage debacle. In 2017, after I left my job as a producer for an NPR-affiliate radio station, pet sitting-money gave me time to re-group and start a freelance audio production business.

But then, a pandemic changed the world.

My audio production business took a huge hit at the beginning of the pandemic. Most of my work at the time came from podcasters who recorded interviews at live events, then sent those recordings to me to edit. When the world shut down, live events were cancelled. No recordings, no work, no money. One of my clients quickly adapted to Zoom interviews, but a single client does not pay the bills. And so, when I received a text message from Dana, a local critter sitter, it seemed like a good opportunity. Maybe even a gift from the universe.

Dana had way more clients than she could handle. Thousands of people—pandemic refugees—had recently moved to Bozeman and the other small towns scattered around Southwest Montana. More thousands had moved here, or bought second (or third, or fourth, or fifth) homes, under the influence of the popular Paramount television series Yellowstone. Kevin Costner in a cowboy hat, Montana’s stunning scenery shown in high definition on eighty-five-inch screens, and the fearsome pandemic all combined to create a perfect storm that prompted a sudden population surge in Bozeman.

Many of our newest residents had pets. Or they had adopted pets after they arrived, part of their new lifestyle in Montana’s wide-open spaces—a romantic image of the family dog running free paired with romantic notions about living in the mythical Wild West. Also, many of the locals had adopted pets during the early days of the pandemic. They wanted a dog or a cat to keep them company while they were isolated or working from home. But eventually vaccines happened. All the people with pets began to plan vacations, weddings, and family reunions. Some returned to on-site work. Work-related travel resumed.

Local critter sitters, including Dana, were quickly overwhelmed with requests for dog walking and home-stay services. Affluent pet owners tried Rover.com and college students. Now they wanted someone experienced, responsible, and mature. I had experience. I was responsible and well-seasoned. Mature by every definition of the word.

Dana and her clients needed help. I needed more money. Win, win! Right?

Uhm…well. Maybe.

These new clients paid two or three times more than I’d previously earned as a critter sitter. Yay for that. Demand was high, with no foreseeable end to opportunities to take on new clients. However, I soon discovered that more money came with more stressful, often unreasonable, conditions and expectations. I felt wobbly as I tried to navigate Bozeman’s new socioeconomic landscape.

This place I wanted to think of as my hometown had changed. A lot. The behavior of these particular people and their pets wasn’t what I was used to. At all. After a few weeks, I wondered if I could live here anymore. I also began to doubt my ability to manage the emotional and physical instability endemic to critter sitter work.

Instability has stalked me throughout my life. Would I now willingly invite it in as an everyday, perpetual guest?