Destination: Petsitting in Ecuador

Our Ecuadoran guide started the walking tour of Quito’s La Floresta neighborhood with a round of introductions. Standing in a crescent-moon shape, we each took turns saying our name, country of residence and reason for visiting. A German couple was in the final stretch of a monthslong vacation. A Dutch researcher was laying over in Quito before her field work commenced up north. A pair of friends from Australia and England were bound for the Galapagos Islands. And then there was me.

“My name is Andrea. I live in Washington D.C., and I came to Quito to dogsit.”

My statement felt like an confession, which I guess it was. Because – no shame – I flew nearly 3,000 miles to the middle of the Earth to take care of a mutt named Fischer. The trip enabled my double addiction to travel and dogs.

“The three Ps are pets, people and places,” said Angela Laws, the social media and commu- nity manager at TrustedHousesitters, an international petsitting company. “You are caring for pets, helping people and seeing places.”

Before Quito, I had never crossed DMV lines for my pet gigs. The biggest culture shock was the different colored Metro line. With TrustedHousesitters, I could expand my petsitting borders to other cities, states, countries and continents. Instead of marking my destinations by pins, I could cover the map with paw prints - or cloven hoofs or chicken scratch.

“I now have four-legged nieces and nephews around the world,” said Angela, a Brit who has completed more than 60 sits in seven countries.

Founded in 2010, the company based in the United Kingdom connects pet owners with sitters in 130 nations. The listings cover all manner of domesticated animals, including dogs, cats, chickens, miniature horses and donkeys, tropical birds, rabbits, sheep, goats, llamas and even a pair of veiled chameleons. Travelers can choose among urban apartments, country manors, Old MacDonald farms and rustic retreats. The length of stay can span from a weekend (two nights with a Pomeranian in Amsterdam) to many months (nearly half a year with five cats and two dogs in Bali).

The experience resembles a homestay with one crucial difference: In exchange for free lodging, you must care for the occupant(s). No money changes hands, an uncommon arrangement in the petsitting industry. You pay for your own travel, though the family might throw in a few extras such as use of their car or the contents of their fridge. They will also cover any pet-related expenses.

“The love is for the pet, not the travel experience,” Angela said. “If you want a vacation, go on a cruise. This is a lifestyle choice.”

To join the community, you must pay a $119 annual fee and complete a multipart profile that includes a three-step process of trust and verification. Like a dating site, I wanted to highlight my finer qualities (good communicator,

devoted) and interests (long walks, Frisbee, wet kisses) without sounding desperate. On the form, I shared my childhood with a pack of Siberian huskies and my experiences petsitting for colleagues, fostering rescue dogs and volunteering at shelters locally and abroad. I posted photos of myself with dogs and with pals, to show that my circle of friends does include humans. I scanned my driver’s license and collected references. My submission exceeded a thousand words. The only story I omitted was the time my gerbil escaped and I pulled on its tail a bit too forcefully. I didn’t want to overshare.

“We give the owners the tools to make an educated decision,” she said. “They don’t choose on a first-come, first-serve basis.”

I pressed submit and took a deep breath. Now for the real challenge: Choosing a destination and a dog, and not necessarily in that order.

It is easy to lose your grip on reality when faced with such dream scenarios as 14 weeks with a German shepherd, Doberman, cat, five chickens and fish in Sri Lanka. Or 10 days with a fivemonth-old puppy named Bruce in Hong Kong. Or a month with Alex, a “maltese-human” mix, in Tasmania. The owners’ instructions to exercise Alex on the beach and “enjoy a morning coffee or tea on the deck or an evening spa counting the stars” only fuels the delusion.

To snap me back, I reached out to Angela, who was spending five weeks with Miss Izzy, a 21-year-old Burmese cat, outside of London. The veteran had some sage advice for a newbie. Pick a location that feels familiar to you – say, North America. You don’t want the foreignness of the place to distract you from your animal care responsibilities. Because I was competing against more-experienced members, I should not focus solely on such major cities as London, Paris and New York, which often receive a high volume of requests, especially among digital nomads and retirees. Instead, I should consider less coveted or exotic locales, and be flexible with dates and places.

To gauge the popularity levels of various locations, I checked the number of submissions on select listings. Remington, a cat in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, had garnered more than 51 requests. Bruno, a Barcelona pup, had pulled in eight-to-11 applications. And Marco and Elke, a feline and Great Dane outside of Dallas, were sitting at zero-to-three applications. The Texas family had less than a month to find help, a ticking clock that could work to my advantage. The closer the departure date, the more urgent the need.

Keeping Angela’s advice in mind, I started perusing the postings. I used the filter to winnow down the dates (late January to late February) and the species (dogs, for their active and social attributes). I decided to stay on this side of the Atlantic, assuring Cherish, the Swedish pug, that it was not personal. I also acknowledged my own physical limitations: To handle three huskies in Ottawa, I would need to take a month of IditerodFit classes. I

didn’t have time to train for petsitting.

I sent out my first batch of requests to a subway-riding Labrador in Toronto, a Portuguese water dog in Calgary, a special needs pit bull in British Columbia and a pair of rescues in Denver. The Toronto couple responded first, and we scheduled a FaceTime interview. Unfortunately, they had a roommate, which the company does not permit, due to the potential risk of same-species conflicts. I heard back from the B.C. owner, who explained the hazards of her remote location, including avalanches and road closures. I expanded my search, eyeing Seattle and Park City, Utah, before ditching my playbook and sending a message to Fischer’s family in Quito. While I waited for a reply, I considered the advantages of the Ecuadoran capital: It follows Eastern Standard Time, uses the U.S. dollar and is beyond the icy grip of the polar vortex. As for the disadvantages: At 9,000 feet, the air is thin, and I don’t speak Spanish. But I could always pick up a can of oxygen and learn a few phrases.