From Farm Girl to Dog Walker: A Life with Animals I’ve always felt most at home in the company of animals. Growing up on a small farm in the southwest of Ireland, they were my whole world. Hens clucked around my feet, the cats lounging in the sum as if they owned the place, cows mooed impatiently for their feed, and the dogs were my ever-loyal companions. I spent most of my childhood knee-deep in mud, hay in my hair, and usually chatting away to the horses as if they could understand every word. (To this day, I swear we had a telepathic connection.) My happiest moments were in the stables, surrounded by the soft sounds of horses munching on hay, the occasional snort, and the warmth of their breath on my hands. The animals were my best friends—well, most of them. The geese, on the other hand, were the absolute bane of my existence. Evil little creatures with beady eyes and bad attitudes! One day, they trapped me at the far end of the paddock, honking like demons while I screamed for anyone to come help me. I’ll never forget the terror. Mornings on the farm were magical. I’d wake up early to check if the hens had laid any eggs, carefully collecting them like precious treasures. Then it was off to milk the cow, I’d carry a jug of fresh milk into the kitchen, placing it on the table. Farm life wasn’t just about the fun bits, though. There were spuds to plant where we had to prepare the soil, and later, backbreaking hours spent digging them up. Making bales of hay and stacking them in the barn was a full-body workout before I even knew what a workout was. It was hard graft, but I loved it. There was something deeply satisfying about working alongside nature, feeling the earth beneath my hands, and knowing that everything had a purpose. Then, at 18, life took a turn—I moved to the city. To say it was a shock would be putting it mildly. The fields and open spaces were replaced with concrete and traffic. No morning egg collection, no cows waiting to be milked, and worst of all—no animals to talk to. I tried to adjust, but I always felt like something was missing. Eventually, I moved to the UK, working in London for a few years before settling in the north of England in 2003. Life moved on—marriage, three kids, and a job that did nothing for my soul. Then came the moment I couldn’t ignore any longer. My dad was diagnosed with lung cancer, and everything shifted. Watching him go through that battle, seeing how fragile life really is, made me rethink everything. It put things into perspective in a way nothing else could. Working a 9 to 5 job, counting down the hours, felt like an insult to the time we’re given. I knew I needed a change—something that made me feel again. And that’s when it hit me. Animals. Dogs. The one thing that had always brought me joy. So, I took the leap into dog walking. Some days are tough. Walking for hours in sideways rain, mud creeping into places mud shouldn’t be, and watching a dog roll gleefully in something foul just as I’m about to hand them back to their owner. But then there are the moments that make it all worth it—seeing a nervous dog grow in confidence, watching them run full tilt with their best mates, the way they look at me like I’m the best part of their day. And, honestly, they’re the best part of mine. When I’m out there, surrounded by dogs, feeling the wind in my face and the earth beneath my feet, I’m that little girl on the farm all over again. The happiness I felt back then, knee-high in mud, surrounded by animals, is the same happiness I feel now. Because at the end of the day, it’s simple—I was always meant to be with animals. And I wouldn’t change it for the world. 🐾

Welcoming Lauren 🐾