A Memorable Start to a Spanish Pet Sit
When Brooke Baum and her husband Buddy joined FurPetVo in early 2018, they had no idea how far their house sitting journey would take them. Thirty countries and dozens of furry friends later, Brooke has compiled a collection of their favorite pet sitting stories — inspiring, entertaining, and deeply relatable to fellow sitters and pet-loving travelers just like you.
Home Flexible: Stories from Life as a Nomadic Traveling House Sitter offers an authentic look into an unconventional lifestyle — one filled with adventure travel, pet shenanigans, and constantly expanding comfort zones. While the book isn’t a step-by-step guide to becoming a pet sitter, Brooke shares hard-won insights and practical lessons learned along the way.
Spanish Sunset and Siestas
After only a few days, it already felt like weeks since we’d been collected from the hectic Málaga airport. Still riding high from a day trip via ferry to Morocco just 24 hours earlier, we handed over the keys to our rental car with great relief — returning it undamaged despite several close calls with local traffic. Then we wandered off to find our ride, backpacks strapped to both our backs and fronts. Though we looked ridiculous, we were unmistakably backpackers — and Brooke loved that.
We’d left chilly autumn weather in the UK for summer-like warmth in southern Spain. But as we navigated the crumbling, multi-level parking garage — clearly overdue for repair — the heat grew increasingly oppressive, losing its initial welcome. After some confusion about where to meet, we spotted Richard (one-half of the couple we’d be sitting for) leaning against the back of his little red, dust-covered hatchback. Calm and unhurried, he radiated quiet relaxation.
He waved cautiously, unsure if he’d found the right “confused-looking couple.” We waved back, excited — knowing we’d soon unload our packs and escape the sun. Up close, we exchanged quick, sweaty, slightly awkward hugs. Greeting each other in this untraditional setting — especially with bulky backpacks in the way — felt unfamiliar. Yet beneath the uncertainty was genuine excitement and the sincere hope of friendship.
This was our ninth pet sit overall — and confidence was growing. But pet sitting in Europe felt different. The level of trust required in homeowners was significantly higher. Back home (outside Hawaii), we’d traveled in our own car — giving us an easy exit if needed. Abroad, however, many sits involved being picked up by homeowners and driven deep into rural areas — sometimes to places that felt like “the middle of nowhere,” or even “the center of somewhere very unfamiliar.” In less touristy regions, English wasn’t always spoken, meaning we truly relied on the kindness of strangers each time.
As we piled into Richard’s car, his cheerful, disarming personality instantly put us at ease. Our hour-long drive led to a tiny village nestled beneath the Sierra del Rey mountains. With the city shrinking in the rearview mirror, any lingering nerves melted away — replaced by pure, bubbling excitement. Richard shared how he and his wife fell in love with the area years earlier and moved there from Britain. Turns out, it’s quite common for Brits to settle abroad — and many of their neighbors were also from the UK. A huge relief: we now had English-speaking emergency contacts nearby.
Soon, all traces of urban life disappeared. As we admired the rolling countryside, we exchanged brief, warm recaps of our lives so far — a ritual Brooke and Buddy often follow on their first day at a new sit. Richard drove us through town, pointing out essentials: the neighborhood grocery store and a beloved local pizzeria — the two undeniable highlights of the small village.
We stopped in to grab a few basics — and immediately fell in love with the bins of fresh, vibrant produce, still dusted with soil and proudly imperfect. As we made our way back to the main road, Richard slowed for children playing kickball in the street and gently steered around stray dogs strolling beside parked cars. It felt like stepping back in time.
He explained that shops closed daily for lunch — usually for an hour or two — and opened whenever convenient in the morning. Brooke and Buddy wholeheartedly approved of this unhurried rhythm and cherished knowing such a relaxed, intentional way of life was not only real — but thriving.
Shortly after leaving town, we turned onto a narrow dirt road flanked by farmhouses and fields bursting with vegetables. Dust swirled behind us as we bumped along — and a few local dogs gave enthusiastic chase. “This is us!” Richard announced, honking the horn cheerfully. We rolled through the gate of their property, passing dozens of rows of ancient olive trees.
Through the dusty haze, two small dogs came barreling toward us — barking joyfully at their human’s return. Richard opened his door, and Nana and Dixon leapt inside for the final leg of the ride. They looked momentarily surprised that the human count had tripled — but their excitement for the car ride quickly won out. From the porch, Carole waved and laughed along with everyone as we pulled slowly up to the house.
As the dogs cooled off in the shade, panting from their energetic sprint, Carole and Richard showed us where to unpack, then brought out ice-cold water and a tray of homemade tapas — including olives plucked straight from their own grove.
