The job you fell into isn't the one you're stuck with…

There's a quiet story a lot of people carry around, and it goes like this: "I'd love to leave my job and work with dogs. But I don't hate my job enough to actually do it."

As if you have to be miserable before you're allowed to want something else.

You don't. And that's really the whole of this one. Leaving your job to work with dogs isn't a prize you earn by being unhappy enough. It's a decision, open to you whether you love your current job or can't wait to be shot of it.

Let me tell you my version, straight, because it isn't the one on the posters.

I didn't choose to leave. I was pushed.

I liked being a veterinary nurse. More than 25 years working with other people's animals and I still liked walking in of a morning. So when people assume my story is "brave woman escapes the job she hated," they've got it wrong from the very first word.

In 2020 I was working as a locum. When covid hit, the work simply vanished — no contract to fall back on, no savings in reserve. A single parent with children to feed and a mortgage that didn't care about any of it. I didn't leap. I was shoved off the edge with no warning.

So I started walking dogs. Not as some bold reinvention — as the only thing I could think of to bring money in that week.

And here's the part that still catches me out, even now: I love it more than the job I already liked. That's not a slogan. It's just true. The business I started out of sheer necessity, St Neots Pet Care, grew into something turning over £250k a year — but the number isn't the bit that surprises me. The bit that surprises me is that I'd choose this, on purpose, every time.

So no — you don't have to hate your job

I tell you all that not for sympathy, but because it quietly kills the myth so many people are stuck behind. You do not have to hate your job to deserve something that's yours.

Maybe your job's fine. Maybe it's even good. You can still want more say over your days, your time back, fresh air instead of fluorescent light, your own name on the business instead of someone else's. Wanting more isn't a betrayal of a perfectly decent job. It's allowed.

The job you fell into can be a good job and still not be the one you want to be doing in five years. Those two things sit together perfectly happily.

"I fell into it" and "I'm stuck with it" are different sentences

Most people didn't carefully plan the job they're in. You took it because it was there, or because it paid the bills, and then time simply passed. That's most of us. No shame in it.

But notice the gap between "I fell into this" and "I'm stuck with this." One is about the past — how you arrived. The other is about right now — a decision you're making today, usually without realising you're making it. And a decision you're quietly making is a decision you can just as quietly change.

Is it actually realistic to work with dogs for a living?

Yes. I'm the proof, and I'm not a special case. The dog part is genuinely the easy part — if you're the sort of person who's read this far, you've almost certainly got what the dogs need. What makes it realistic isn't some hidden talent. It's treating it like a business from day one instead of a hobby you're hoping might pay off.

Reliable service, sensible pricing, the right few bits of paperwork, clients who trust you — that's the whole game, and every piece of it can be learned. None of it requires you to be a "business person," whatever one of those is supposed to look like.

How to leave without jumping off a cliff

Here's where you get the advantage I never had.

I did it the worst way round. No map, no runway. Figuring it out live while the bills kept coming. It still worked, which tells you something reassuring about how doable this is even in the worst case. But you don't have to do it my way.

You can keep your job and build the other thing in the edges of your week. You can take on a couple of clients at weekends and see how it sits with you. You can pick your own leaving date instead of having it picked for you by a restructure you never saw coming. You can walk out on a Friday with paying clients already booked in for the Monday.

That planned, chosen, supported version — where you jump on purpose, with a parachute you packed yourself — is exactly the thing I never got, and now spend my time helping other people build. It's the whole reason I do this. Because it turns out you can end up where I am without the sleepless year I went through to get here.

You don't need permission. But here it is anyway.

If some part of you has been waiting for a sign, or for someone to tell you it's a sensible thing to even want — here it is.

You don't need to hate where you are to start moving toward something that's yours. You just need to want where you're going. The wanting is enough. It always was.

Frequently asked questions

Do you have to hate your job to leave it and work with dogs?

No. Wanting more control over your days, or simply something of your own, is reason enough — you don't have to be miserable to be allowed to want a change.

Is it realistic to leave your job to become a dog walker?

Yes, for plenty of ordinary people. It rewards reliability and treating it like a real business far more than it rewards any special talent. The dog part is the easy part.

Do I have to quit my job straight away?

No, and it's usually wiser not to. Many people build up clients alongside their job and only hand in their notice once the income is there to catch them.

What if I've got a mortgage, children and no savings?

It's harder, but it isn't impossible — I started from exactly there in 2020. What a plan changes is that you get to build on your own terms, rather than in a panic.

Over the next few posts I'll get practical — the actual steps, in order, that turn "I'd love to" into "I've booked my first client." But this one had to come first. Because none of the how-to means much until you've let yourself want it.