My life was transformed forever: my children were growing up without me, but one day everything changed.
When I was thirty-two, I found myself at a crossroads. On the surface, everything seemed perfect: a cozy home on the outskirts of Manchester, a good job in banking, two wonderful children—five-year-old David and three-year-old Eliza—and expecting a third child, a girl. Yet, inside me, a storm was brewing that I could no longer ignore.
I grew up in a small village near a farm that my parents owned. My childhood was spent among wheat fields, cows, and chickens, surrounded by the smell of hay and the sound of milk churns. I loved being by my parents, helping them, petting the calves and feeding the chicks. My father often said, “Kate will be a vet, you’ll see.” And I believed it until life swept me in another direction.
At 21, I moved to the city and started a career in banking. I forgot about animal husbandry—I was too quickly drawn into a world of numbers, charts, clients, and KPIs. Everything seemed right until the realization hit me: I no longer saw my children. I came home at eight in the evening, exhausted, with a sore back and an empty soul. David was already asleep, and Eliza would cling to me with sleepy arms, begging me to stay for just five minutes… and all I wanted was to lie down and disconnect from it all.
My second husband was kind and caring. He became a father to my children, although he wasn’t their biological parent. He took care of the household, cooked, took the kids to nursery, did laundry, and even read them bedtime stories. He tried his best, but I could see—it was hard on him too. We were both like hamsters on a wheel.
When I asked my employer to let me work part-time, they refused. “You’re indispensable,” they said. But something inside me broke. I knew it was time.
One day, I was brushing our big, shaggy, eternally happy dog, Max. In that moment, I remembered my childhood. How I dreamed of treating animals, how much I loved cats, how I took my children to the zoo at every opportunity. That love for all living things hadn’t died. It was just quietly waiting for its moment. I raised my head and thought, “What if…”
I called my husband:
“Alex, how do you feel about opening a pet hotel?”
There was a silence on the other end, followed by a warm laugh:
“I’ve dreamed about it for a long time, just didn’t know how to suggest it to you.”
We were building a house, and initially, it was supposed to have two garages and a workshop for my husband. Everything changed. We redesigned the layout: now there was a cozy pet hotel with separate enclosures, heating, and a play area.
I dealt with the paperwork, consultations, and agreements. It was a long journey full of sleepless nights and doubts. But six months later, we welcomed our first client—a cat named Bonnie whose owner was going on holiday. And that was the beginning of a new chapter.
I left the bank without looking back. Instead of the monotony of the office, I now had early walks with dogs, the purring of cats, and the sound of children’s laughter outside the window. My children were with me again—we had breakfast together in the morning, they helped me look after the animals during the day, and in the evening, I put them to bed, listening to them excitedly tell stories about their adventures.
My husband continued to support me—emotionally, physically, and financially. We became a true team. Our home was always tidy, the fridge stocked with fresh food, and our souls at peace.
Our business thrived. People can tell when you work with passion. They see how happy their pets are to return to us. Some say, “It’s like a spa for animals here!” And I smile and thank them for their trust.
Now I feel alive again. My family is happy. And I don’t regret a single step. Because choosing to follow your heart is always the right decision, even if it requires courage.
Life is unpredictable. I once thought a career in banking was my limit. But today, I proudly say: I am the owner of a pet hotel and a mother who is once again present for her children.
