One Year on Substack: Apparently I Built a Thing A year ago, in the very first Field Note, I wrote this: “I’m semi-retired, not out there lugging gear or answering midnight calls anymore—but every lesson, scar, and whisper from a terrified cat is still with me. This is a record. A reminder of what it costs to do this work well. I have no dog in the fight. No need to renew memberships. No script to sell. I’m just choosing—the stability to step back giving me the freedom to tell the truth as I lived it.” One year later, that still may be the clearest explanation of why Field Notes exists. I started because I had lived enough of the work to know what gets left out of the polished version. A year ago,Field Notes Story & Safety, started with no master plan, no funnel, no launch sequence, and absolutely no intention of becoming anyone’s “content creator.” There were just had a few things to say. Things that didn’t want to slip away as a small business owner, as a dog walker, or a pet sitter turned cat care specialist. Thoughts, feelings, and just had a few things to say the best way I knew how…through written words. That was it. The cliché goes write about the work behind the work. The parts of pet care that do not fit neatly into cute photos, booking apps, five-star reviews, or “best practices.” The messy parts. The safe and unsafe parts. The parts that sometimes break one’s morals, ethics, and heart. The part where somebody is standing in a client’s kitchen at 7 a.m. trying to make a good decision with a sick cat, bad weather moving in, and three more visits on the schedule. Somehow, one year later, Field Notes is still here. Actually, more than still here. And part of the reason it is still here is because a few people in this industry quietly kept saying the same thing: Keep going. Keep writing. “I love what you are doing over on Substack.” Some of them were industry leaders. Some were colleagues. Some were readers I did not even realize were even paying attention. They did not comment publicly. They did not share the posts. But every so often, a note would come through, a conversation would happen, or someone would say, “This needs to be said.” And that mattered or oddly a theme I had been working through would get reframed and elevated without reference or even acknowledgment. Because when you are writing into what sometimes feels like the void, especially about safety, responsibility, risk, and the unglamorous parts of professional pet care, encouragement counts. It does not mean everyone agrees. It just means somebody sees the value of continuing or even challenging the traditional thinking. So, the weekly writing continued. We tackled difficult topics and even poked the bear with a chuckle once in a while. This thing called Substack has grown into a weekly newsletter, a podcast, safety briefings, regulatory notes, industry conversations, conference material, and apparently a small international readership that includes places I had to look up on a map. And the numbers are still funny to me. Forty-seven followers and yet … Thousands of readers across 5 countries. More than 1,000 downloads on a less-than-10-minute weekly podcast that only started in March 2026. By internet standards, those numbers may not impress the algorithm, but then this isn’t for the algorithm, or Facebook, or Instagram, or tick-tock. It started as a one olde, experienced professional pet sitter writing about the hidden life of an overlooked career. But by legacy standards? By “is anybody actually listening standards?” By “can one voice start to shift a conversation” standards? Those numbers are more than enough. Palau, I am still looking at you. LOL. Field Notes for Pet Pros is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. And the funny thing is, the core idea has not changed. Pet care is work. Real work. People with real skills and bearing real risks. The people doing it deserve more than vibes, hustle slogans, and “just use common sense,” advice. As the pet sitting industry continues to grow, mature, and yes become more professional it deserves the language, systems and training that respects the reality of the job. They deserve someone willing to say: no, the phone is not a safety system; no, “we’ve always done it this way” is not a policy; no, a scratch, a fall, a bite, a heat event, a medication error, is a near miss not just “part of the job.” That is where Field Notes has settled. Not as a place for perfection. Not as a place for pretending I have all the answers. But as a place to document what I have seen, what I have learned, what I know from pet sitting, from cats to dogs, from safety work, from aging, from grief, from stubbornness, and from standing in the gap long enough to know when something is missing. And something has been missing in this industry. We talk a lot about professionalism, growth, profit and the client experience. But safety? Actual safety? The kind with accountability, hazard recognition, documentation, training, decision-making, and employer responsibility? It is not built around proving how much I know. It is built around helping someone else know what to do next. That distinction matters. Because in adult learning, success is not “I completed the module.” Success is a sitter recognizing the hazard sooner. Success is a business owner changing the procedure before someone gets hurt. Success is a team having language for the situation that used to be dismissed as “just part of the job.” Success is knowing when to stop, document, call, escalate, reschedule, refuse, or rethink the visit. That is the thing I made. Well, this conversation is still very young and very misunderstood by most of the industry. So maybe that is what this first year really became. A year where an olde career finally landed and got mashed up into a voice of standing in the gap for pet care professionals. A marker. A place where I started putting stakes in the ground. Pet sitters are not hobbyists when the work goes wrong. Dog walkers are not “just walking dogs” when they are alone, in public, in weather, with animals, keys, traffic, medications, clients, and time pressure. Cat sitters are not “just feeding cats” when they are monitoring chronic illness, giving insulin, noticing subtle decline, managing access, and deciding when something has crossed the line from normal to emergency. A year in, I am grateful for every reader, listener, quiet lurker, email opener, podcast downloader, and person who has said, “I never thought about it that way.” That is enough. Actually, that is more than enough. Because one year ago, I thought I was just writing down a few field notes. Sharing with any reader who would listen …what it really costs to do this work well. Turns out, we may have been building the beginning of a different kind of safety conversation this industry has needed for a very long time. I just didn’t realize that was where I was really going. Or that was the message trying to surface in a sea of hustle cultures. So here we are. Starting year two. Still not a guru, coach, or sales funnel builder for the next big thing. Just offering a few safety Tail Wagging lessons for less than the cost of a daily dog walk. I am still taking notes, asking better questions, and still standing in the gap. And apparently, still hitting publish. 🐾 This work is part of an ongoing legacy project rooted in presence, emotional literacy, field judgment, and soft-skills mentorship for animal care professionals. You are welcome to share this piece in staff meetings, mentorship circles, safety conversations, or quiet reflection spaces—with credit. Please do not republish, repackage, train from, or monetize this content—in part or whole—without written permission. These stories come from lived experience and are offered with care. © Beth Pasek, 2026. All rights reserved. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bethpasek1.substack.com/subscribe
