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Presently, I am living someone else’s life. I am in their home, shuffling around their kitchen; sitting at their table as I do my work; resting on their couch as their dogs look at me wistfully; looking out at their land which is vast and open and diametrically opposed to the cramped and crowded street I usually live in.
This isn’t the first time I’ve lived someone else’s life, and hopefully it won’t be the last.
It started with an app. Or it started with my wife. Or it started somewhere else because sometimes startings are hard to pin down. It definitely didn’t start with me. The app is a house sitting app. It connects people who need house sitters with people who are happy and interested in doing a bit of house sitting. The language is all around house sitting, but in truth it’s really about the pet sitting, the house is just there to facilitate that. TrustedHousesitters is the app for any of you who might be interested. Their website claims “The freedom to travel. Discover free & unique homestays around the world, in exchange for caring for adorable pets”, which as far as marketing models go is pretty damn good. It’s definitely what attracted us to it, or more specifically, Holly, who first found it.
For us, the attraction was two fold. “Free” and “around the world” constitute the first part. We like to travel, another way to temporarily live another life, and also almost need to, as we have family that live a goodly distance away, on a continent located multiple lengthy plane rides to get to. However, we are not the wealthiest of people, thanks in part to yours truly embracing the struggling artist lifestyle, although with less struggle and more a single income household. So when the words FREE and TRAVEL and AROUND THE WORLD pop up, that is guaranteed to get our attention.
The second part of the attraction is the adorable pets. Presently, we have no pets, which is a slightly sad statement to make. Part of the reason for this is our love of travel. A pet brings added complications when it comes to heading off and we have an aversion to foistering a pet off to our loved ones every time we want to go somewhere. We are also, admittedly, somewhat commitment-phobic. Then there is also the cost and our current living situation…either way, all these many reasons mean that there is no furry four footed friend in our house but there is a hole in hearts where one lives. Pet sitting allows us to fill that hole.
So, this all started a few years back now. Holly saw the site or the app, looked into it, and thought it had real potential. From this came THE GOAL™. THE GOAL™ was a lofty one, and is still currently a work in process. Do you want to hear it? Alright, I’m going to tell it to you. To do a multi month trip in Europe where at least half the accommodation comes from housesitting. More so, fly by the absolute seat of our pants and let the housesitting dictate the travel. That second part may not sound too wild to you but let me tell you, for these two planners that is huge! Basically it would work like this, stay with the aforementioned family, who thankfully live in central Europe, a train ride away to most places, lock in some house sitting jobs from there and go back and forth as needed. Work remotely as we go, and hopefully let the randomness of it take us to some unexpected places. The first step in achieving THE GOAL™ was the first step of just about every online process these days. Making a profile.
Now this profile wasn’t just as simple as adding in our name and photo. No, we were selling ourselves, trying through text to convince people to let us into their home, to stay there, look after their beloved pets, and live their lives for a while. As the name of the app suggests, we needed to come across as trusted house sitters. It felt more like writing a resume and cover letter than signing up to an app. We needed history, references, an explanation of who we were and why we were doing this, all written in a way that convinced the reader we were friendly and nice and the kinds of people they would give the keys to their kingdom to. If we were going to achieve THE GOAL™ then getting this right was the first and arguably most crucial step. We took our time writing it all up, altering and editing it all across multiple drafts, and even approached family and friends whose pets we had looked after in the past to jump on the site and write us a reference. All of that done, and with some friendly photos of us included, we moved on to the next step. Namely, getting more references. Ideally, ones from people who didn’t already love us. So, with our carefully crafted profile now out and ready to be viewed, we started applying for some housesits.
It is an interesting thing, going on to the app and seeing the hundreds of potential housesits from all over the world. It seems to default to the United States, and so straight away you're getting a little window into the homes and faces and pets of people half a world away. Seeing this, it’s hard for your curiosity not to stretch a little bit further, and see, just for instance, what the housesits in Norway might look like, maybe take a dip into Japan and have a little spy on the homes and houses and pets that exist there, to click around the world and see all the lives set up and lived by others, lives that you could just slide into and live for a short while. The sense of possibility is huge, right at the tips of your fingers, and if you're anything like us, a feeling of let’s do them all now! will wash over you with an urgency that you’ll need to pull yourself back from. We managed to do exactly that, and instead type in the state we live in to find a few housesits a little closer to home.
Our plan was to try and do a few small ones first, get a feel for the whole thing and get a few more references, many references if we could, so that when we headed over the oceans to places unknown, the people there would feel confident letting two foreign Australians live their lives for a while rather than one of their fellow countrymen and women.
So we scrolled through houses in our state. Explored the photos of living rooms and lounge rooms, kitchens and bedrooms, and the many many beautiful pets whose company we might enjoy as their temporary de facto owners. We read the write ups of the people looking for a house sit, some as meticulously written as our own, others noticeably less so, all telling us so much of who these people were. The funny thing is that the people whose homes you’re entering, whose lives you’re living, they’re the least important part. Of course, you want to make a good impression, but when it comes to the actual stay, they’re not there. From our experience doing a few of these now, for the most part they leave before we arrive and come back only once we’re gone. Living their lives for a while requires their absence, otherwise it’ll be like meeting a time travelling version of yourself who has potentially catastrophically managed to exist in the same place at the same time as you.
We decided to go easy for the first one. A weekend in a big country town only an hour and a half’s drive from our own. We applied, being as thoughtful with our hello, we’d like to be the ones to live your lives for a weekend letter as we had with our profile. Success! Sort of. They wanted to meet us first, in person. Fair enough, however driving three hours return just for a meet seemed a bit rich, but luckily for us, they sweetened the deal. Their home is a big one, complete with a pool, some gorgeous acreage, and a converted shipping container that they rent out as an airbnb. They suggested that we come up for a weekend before the actual house sitting weekend, stay in the shipping container, meet them and their dog, that way we could see where everything was and they could see that we weren’t freaks. Two weekends for the price of one would suit us just fine.
Meeting people whose lives you're planning to live is a slightly surreal experience, made more so by the reminder that just by taking a few small steps and saying yes, you can make things happen. Suddenly, here we were, in a strangers house we had met off the internet, learning where the dog food was and how to use their coffee maker. More than that though, we learnt about them. A house, especially one that’s been lived in for years, says so much about who we are. Aside from the photos adorning walls, or the invitations and bills magnetised to the fridge, there is also just all the choices made about decor and tastes and preference filling up every room. Then, there was also the people themselves, and the fact that we got along well, and had a nice chat in which we learnt a little about their past and their present. For this first one at least, they didn’t want to keep us anonymous, to drop the keys and run. They wanted more. They had a goal of their own, to use the app to find people they could call on again and again to look after their house and their pup. They were reaching retirement age (at least for wealthy people), and wanted to head out more, to travel and visit people, and so rather than veto people every time they were hoping to find a few trustworthy and reliable folks they could have in reserve. It was a good idea, and we are now on that list.
So there was the weekend of the veto, odd because we were both their guests and not their guests, after the chat and the tour, left alone to play tourist for the weekend in the shipping container. Then came the house sit itself. A few nights in a big house out in the countryside, both ours and not ours.
It was lovely, for the most part. The dog was easy company, the house comfortable, and the town large enough to be full of pubs and bars and cafes to explore. As for the living someone else’s life side of things, there were fleeting moments of it but it didn’t really sink all the way in. Mostly, I felt very aware that I was padding through someone else’s home, and trying not to make a mess.
That would change with our second house sit. Another country town not too far from Melbourne, this one a spit of a thing, containing just three shop fronts; a service station, a pottery store, and a sometimes open but more often closed wood-fire pizza place. We would be here for ten days, and would return a year later.
Two dogs this time, which would increase to three by the following year, which is now. The two dogs in questions couldn’t be more diametrically opposed. One, a kelpie only a year old, the other, a golden retriever at the end of his days. The house itself felt more homey than the last one, easier to settle into. It felt like a large shack, a more Australian version of a cottage, one that had been added to and updated, each change making it more of a home. While nowhere near as large as the first one, it felt warmer because of that. More lived in, with less spaces in the house that went unused. Best of all, were the sunsets.
At the back of the property is a small valley, one that dips away to perfectly open up the landscape over which the sun would set every night. The woman whose life we had stepped into like a comfortable pair of shoes had set up an area behind her shed to sit and watch this small and large colourful display. There was a fire pit that went unused by us as lighting a fire in summer is generally frowned upon in this country, a couple of chairs, and a few stumps of wood for sitting or resting drinks on. We set up two chairs with a stump between, and every evening would head out with a whisky each and for around an hour, sit and watch a sunset.
This was maybe the best part of living someone else’s life. It was easy to feel the routine of this act. Each sunset its own small masterpiece, watching it, a way to decompress after a day. Here, we truly did feel at home. Could see the potential of a life lived here. And not just a life, but our lives.
Like I said, we returned there this year, this time staying for over two weeks. Now it really felt like we were living another life. Outside of new dog number three, another kelpie, ball obsessed and a complete sweetheart, we were familiar with the house and the property and the routines. To add to this, our host had done everything possible to make room for us. She had cleared out the fridge, and the bathroom, and even a chest of drawers in her – now, our – bedroom. We could fully move in, and we did. This time, we all but filled the car with food, small staples, and even our coffee machine and soda stream. Last time, we had adapted to the space. This time we were filling it, making it more a blend of her life and ours.
We filled our shelves in the fridge, made room in the pantry and figured out a system, unpacked our bags and put our clothes in the drawers, found space on the bench for the soda stream and coffee maker, and even connected a spare chromecast to the tv. The small amenities of our life were now nested within hers like a babushka doll.
The dogs, it should be noted, embraced our presence wholeheartedly. Having done a few housesits now, it always surprises me how much these creatures, known for their loyalty, company, and even neediness, seemingly forget their people entirely as soon as they step out the door and we step in. Nothing makes you feel like you are living someone else’s life so completely as having their pets all but immediately shower you with a love and devotion that you have, as of yet, no way earned. It feels rude to say this, but if they missed their owners, they completely failed to show it. In truth, they seemed to accept without hesitation that we were their owners now. That we lived here now. That this was our life.
Now once more moved into our temporary life, it was time to live it.
It is interesting the routines you keep and the ones you adopt when living someone else’s life. There can be a sense of discomfort at times, like wearing a sweater that’s too big so that it bunches up around you, tickling your face, and hanging over your hands. We rise early anyway, most weekdays waking up at 6am. But with the pooches, who sleep in the laundry overnight, this time now became mandatory. A familiar feeling for any parents, I know, but it meant that when we stayed up late one night to take photos of the stars, we still had to wake up at six to let the dogs out. Once out, they run and bark, finding rabbits or kangaroos, or even just insects, to vent their vocals at, making returning to sleep a dream we couldn’t quite reach.
There was also the walking. Six kilometers every morning for the two kelpies, the old retriever’s back legs passed the point where they were still up for the task. Once again, this was similar and different to our regular life. I have done a separate Stray Thoughts on my love of walking, but with the dogs I once again had to fit my way of doing things to theirs. This wasn’t my life I was living, but someone else's. This meant the frustration of putting on leads and face collars to two very excited dogs who never seemed to realise that the thing they wanted, going on a walk, could only begin by the thing they avoided, putting on the lead. My walks in my normal life are sedate and thoughtful. These ones almost always started with chaos. Ball-loving sweetheart was true to his nature, a perfect walking partner, keeping pace and staying in a straight line. It was the other goon, skinny and excited, who would bring the chaos. She would swing and move and pull and point, going in every direction but the one you wanted, stopping every once in a while to, often successfully, try and remove her face collar. Thankfully, this only seemed to happen for the first short stretch. Unfortunately, this was also while we were walking along a highway. As soon as we were able to turn off onto dirt roads, she seemed to settle. Then the real walk could begin. A stroll through a brown and orange landscape. Dirt and stone beneath my feet, a slight cool to the air before the day's heat would really begin. We wound through back roads only the locals would ever need to drive on, one of them occasionally passing us with a wave as we pulled the dogs to the side.
Twice, an older woman out for a run stopped Holly to have a quick chat. She asked how far Holly was walking and if she lived nearby. Holly told her she did, neglecting to mention its temporary nature, and so, even for that short time we were accepted and mistaken as living a life that wasn’t ours.
So much of living someone else’s life is discovery. We had done it on the smaller scale, figuring out the house, the home, and the immediate surrounds. Now, it was time to go further afield. Discover shops and cafes, parks and pubs. Like I said, the town itself we were living in had none of these, but there were two larger towns that we were situated between, a roughly fifteen minute drive in either direction would take us to one of the other, and even some smaller ones that housed a single pub to explore, or a bakery to grab a bite at.
In our regular life, we live in the inner city, and so to hit up places for food and drink and entertainment, we can usually just leave our house on foot, either walk or ride to our location or grab some public transport to get there. Out here, living a life that wasn’t ours, it was the car that was king. One day I looked up how long it would take me to walk to the bakery in the next town over. Over an hour and a half, one way. I didn’t need a pie and an apple cake that badly. But it made me realise how easily your scale can change depending on where you live. Living this other person's life, the ring I would travel to for the basics was so much wider while also being emptier. And getting takeaway delivered was not an option.
This exploration did find us some gems. A water hole we swam at that was fresh and bracing and beautiful. A park to eat fish and chips beside, with ducks that were persistent in their desire to just sidle up to us, to just happen to be walking by, with no chip-based ulterior motives. We also started a tradition while we were living that other life. Come Friday, early afternoon, we’d take ourselves and our laptops to a pub. A couple of hours of work out of the house with a drink on hand, which then slid easily into the weekend starting with a delicious pub dinner.
All in all, by the time our two weeks were done, that other person’s life was feeling less like someone else’s. While we were excited to get back to our actual life, and our home, and our routines, that life, now lived twice, felt like one we now had some ownership over. More like a previous home we once lived in way back when rather than a temporary stop into somebody else's. It is curious how easily we can inhabit a space and feel comfortable there. How, much like the dogs immediately adopting us as their new owners, we could accept this new life with barely a blink, our normal one forgotten for the moment.
There is one more housesit I’ll quickly tell you about, this one even more curious than the others. But first, some context. Half a decade ago now, Holly and I had a different goal. As people who love mountains, we wanted to see if we could build a life near some, which in our state really only leaves you with one option. The Alpine Valley. For non-Australians, these mountains are barely worth the name, but for us this region of the state held that something special that only alpine regions can. A clarity to the air. The colour of the foliage. The comfort of being tucked into a valley with a range of mountains looking over you like giant silent protectors. We had visited the area numerous times and had even chosen one of its towns we wanted to make a life in. Porepunkah. We talked about moving there. Either building or renovating a house. Getting a dog, likely a golden retriever cross. And starting each day by breathing in that mountain air.
Then, two things happened. Covid and remote working. While remote working was good for this plan – work was one of the things we hadn’t figured out for this eventual hopeful move – it also meant that seemingly everyone else in the state all decided to have the same goal. Prices for land in the area literally tripled post covid, which meant, as a poor writer and his sugar-mumma wife, we were priced out and then some of this particular market.
The dream was dead. We mourned it, mostly, and started making other dreams and other goals. We started housesitting and are still shopping around for another place to make our eventually forever home.
Then, late last year, a suggestion came through on the housesitting app. A home in Porepunkah looking after a golden retriever.
We both got the push notification, as though the app was reaching out to us specifically to say ‘hey! Here it is, the life you once planned to live, the one you made moves for, the one you told your friends and family about, the one you put money aside to one day live. Here it is, for the living, even if only for a weekend.’
We were resistant. It felt less like a gift and more like a tease. A mocking glimpse at a life that had fallen through our fingers. We talked about applying. Chose not to, mostly because our life, our real one, the one we always lived, was too busy.
Then the house showed up again.
We were less busy. We had less excuses. And so we applied for a life we had once set our hearts on living. We got it, because of course we did.
We told the owner part of it. That we had once thought about moving to the area. We didn’t tell her that she was living our life. That her and her house and her dog were the very thing we had seen in our future, aimed ourselves towards, only to then find an unscalable wall in our way. She smiled and was polite and told us, well, yeah, it’s a great area. But it was more than that, it was our life. Except, it wasn’t. It was hers. We were just borrowing it for a weekend.
And so she left, and we made ourselves at home.
I’ll say this, it was a good life. It was a good dream to have once had. The mountain air was as crisp as I’d hoped. The big dopey dog as amusing and humorously stubborn as you’d expect. The view, idyllic and green and one you could look at night after night. It was perfect. And so we worked and wrote there. Watched movies on the couch. Walked down to the local cafe. Cooked and ate. Read books and went for walks. It was a good life.
Living someone else’s life, be it for a week, a weekend, or even just a day, can provide many things. Insight, experiences, sunsets, perspective, and in this case, closure. It was nice to know the dream had been a good one. It was nice to have had a real taste of it before finally putting it to bed. It was justifying to know we could have built something beautiful for ourselves there, even if now we won’t.
Having lived it, it’s easier to now put it down and look elsewhere for a new place to dream about. Presently, we don’t have our hearts set on any one location, we now know that can be a risky choice to make, but, we’re shopping around. And in the meantime, we’ll probably do a few more housesits. Live other people’s lives, and in so doing, help us better understand the one we one day want to make for ourselves.
Until then, there’s more places to visit, there’s THE GOAL™, and there’s this life, the one we already live, and that thankfully, we already love so much.
Thank you so much for reading these Stray Thoughts and until next time just keep living your life, or, if the opportunity comes up, maybe someone else’s as well.