London's No 1 Dog-Walking Agency by Kate MacDougall

Author:Kate MacDougall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blink Publishing

Jelly and Bean

Scottish Terriers, four, Islington

March 2010

Number of dogs walked: 34

S

uddenly, it seemed as if everyone wanted to be a dog-walker. At least twenty emailed a day, which was either a sad reflection on the state of the job market, a reminder that the seasons were changing or a clear and positive sign that employment as a dog-walker was no longer seen as an enormous embarrassment. Or, as I think was the case, all of the above.

Along with the usual round of actors, dancers, students and eccentrics, a new breed of applicant had emerged. The Recession Dog-Walker – a professional type whose CV covered more than one side of A4 and knew how to use an iron and a spreadsheet. This new breed was naturally happier in a corporate environment but, displaced by the barren job market and having been spurned one too many times, had grown mistrustful of offices and wondered if they might be happier doing something completely different. Groomed, soft-handed and not at all used to mud or fur or slobber, these wide-eyed hopefuls had fallen into the dangerous trap of seeing a cute dog in the park on a sunny day and then letting their unemployed imaginations run riot. As the long-term implications of the recession began to settle in, many had concluded that people were not the answer to anything anymore and that the only way forward was dogs.

Procurement managers, HR specialists, junior lawyers, travel agents, gallery assistants, event organisers, PAs, EAs and maître d’s, all seeking fulfilment and finance through dogs. Shattering any remaining illusions on what life might had to offer them by telling them that the pay was crap and that some dogs can poo up to five times on just one walk was an unfortunate duty but it was important to give them the facts and to weed out the timewasters. It was either going to be far better than they could have imagined or the worst job they had ever had and it wasn’t until they were out in a gale walking a dog with a dodgy tummy that they would really get the measure of it.

‘I just think that working with dogs might be the best thing for me at the moment,’ they would say earnestly. ‘I’ve always liked dogs and I am good at walking.’

‘The weather is bad,’ I would reply. ‘And the clients can be difficult.’

‘But animals seem to really like me. They understand me.’

I hired a few of them and sent the best-dressed ones on trial walks in the rain. None of them made it past the first day, citing excuses such as ‘my aunt has just broken her leg’, or ‘my perfect job in fashion just suddenly appeared’, or ‘I forgot I have to move to Abu Dhabi in the morning’. It never failed to amaze me what concoctions people expected to pass for the truth.

The ones that were left seemed like a hardy bunch and with the walker stock replenished, I set my sights on the other side of the Thames.

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