The Rainbow Bridge

“gone but never forgotten”

As people who choose to share their lives with animals
we must always be prepared for the sorrow of losing one of the “family”,
however, it is never easy.

Well, we were blessed with luck—albeit luck delivered by someone else’s misfortune. After we lost Annie in November 2010, Carolyn kept a watchful eye on TradeMe, an auction and classifieds site, hoping the right new friend would appear. Eventually, a three-year-old Samoyed popped up who needed a new home due to a change in her owner’s circumstances.

One quick trip to Cambridge and back, and we returned with a “new-to-us” Samoyed to add to the pack—Shelby.

Shelby came equipped with all the classic Samoyed features we already knew and loved: the smiley, happy-go-lucky attitude, the bright-eyed optimism, and the firm belief that the world exists primarily to adore her. But she was also a delightful contradiction. She was outrageously affectionate—absolutely besotted with people and always keen for a cuddle—yet she had no trouble standing her ground and putting Baku in his place whenever he tried to take charge.

Before joining us, Shelby had been an outdoor dog… which makes what happened next even funnier. She took approximately five minutes to decide the bed was hers, the couch was hers, and—if we’re being honest—most of the house was probably hers too. Baku, meanwhile, was appalled. The bed, in his opinion, was not a “shared resource”; it was a sacred object, handed down through generations of Akita royalty. Shelby disagreed, settled in like she’d paid the mortgage, and that was that.

Shelby, you were an absolute delight to have sharing our lives.
Run free on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.

Baku was an American Akita or Akita Inu, a breed originally from Japan, and we are extremely grateful to have been accepted as members of “his” pack.

When we were looking for a Japanese name that matched the Akita spirit, we stumbled on Baku—and it felt perfect. The baku, a creature that originated in Chinese mythology and appears in Japanese folklore, is said to ward off evil. It’s most famous for devouring nightmares, along with the bad luck that follows them. For centuries, the baku’s image was considered a lucky ornament for the bedroom, and it was once painted in gold lacquer on the pillows of nobility.

Akita’s are an alert but discerning breed. They do not react without reason so with one in the house you know you will always sleep easy – hence Baku as a name was appropriate.

During the COVID lockdowns, Baku was rushed to hospital with what turned out to be pancreatitis caused by a severe bacterial infection. It soon affected his lungs, and he needed oxygen. The team at the Animal Referral Centre in Albany fought for nearly 24 hours to save him, but in the end his big heart had had enough. He slipped away before we could get there.

After 13+ years together—many of them with David working from home—Baku’s bond with him was especially strong. We both felt as though a big piece of our hearts went with him.

Anyone who has shared their life with an Akita will understand how special they are—they’re so much more than a dog. They’re intelligent, independent souls, and loving one is a complicated kind of partnership. To be accepted as part of their pack is an honour; to be regarded as their equal is something truly special.

Baku, bug, buddy, buggerku, thank you for all that you gave and the truly special memories we have of our time together. We know you would be upset to know how your passing has made us feel but we can’t help it.

A “friend” found a wild cat and her three young kittens in her woodshed. Knowing Carolyn was a soft touch, she convinced her—after just one visit—to take the “twins” home.

The boys, Aston and Martin (named after Carolyn’s favourite car brand), lived in the barn and took their rodent-control duties very seriously. Before long, they’d also appointed themselves Baku’s chief tormentors, teasing him mercilessly whenever the mood struck.

They were supervisors, too: no task around the yard, in the sheds, or anywhere on the property—feeding, foaling, you name it—was ever completed without at least one of the dynamic duo in attendance.

Bringing Annie into our lives felt like it was meant to be. Sadly, our time with her was nowhere near as long as it should have been. After a short illness caused by chewing and swallowing part of a dog toy, Annie was lost on the operating table. Her passing didn’t just devastate us—it affected the incredible vets too, who worked tirelessly for four days trying to save her. It simply wasn’t meant to be.

Baku missed her deeply. For a long time he couldn’t understand why his best mate was no longer there to play.

Always nearby and always ready for attention—especially cuddles on the bed—this sweet, timid girl had a short life, but she was fiercely loved and is dearly missed.

Annie, there will always be room for your spirit on our bed and in our hearts.
You don’t need to worry anymore. You’re safe now, little one.

Quin was an Akita—an American Akita, closely related to the Japanese Akita Inu, a breed that originated in Japan. Historically, Akitas were used for guarding home and family and for hunting large game, including bear, alongside the Matagi hunters in northern Japan.

The breed was introduced to the Western world in large part through Helen Keller, when she took an Akita to the United States in the late 1930s.

In Japan, the Akita has been formally protected and celebrated—designated a National Natural Monument in 1931, and widely regarded as a national treasure.

And while “oldest breed” lists can be a bit over-simplified, Akitas are often described as having an ancient lineage, with modern genetic research supporting the idea that some breeds (including Akita-type dogs) trace back a long way.

They’re fiercely devoted and take their responsibility to “the pack” very seriously. In Tokyo, outside Shibuya Station, there’s a statue of an Akita named Hachikō (Richard Gere  produced and starred in Hachi: A Dog’s Tale). Every day he would see his owner off to work at the station—until 11 May 1925, when his owner died suddenly at work and never returned. Hachikō still came back each afternoon to wait, and he did so for nearly ten years, right up until his own death.

It’s the kind of loyalty that helps you understand why people say that once you’ve shared your life with an Akita, you’ll never want another breed.

It was Quin who introduced us to the world of showing. Carolyn showed him until he earned his Championship title.

They say some animals are truly special, and Quin most certainly was. He was aloof with strangers, but completely devoted to us. He had a way of making us feel guilty every time we left—and of making us look forward to coming home, because home meant him.

It was an honour to be counted as members of his pack.

“What we have enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us”
Helen Keller

Our best friend has gone and we miss him terribly – rest easy mate.

Mimi was our first moggy. She had a tough start to life—found in the gutter as a young kitten with a smashed jaw. Thanks to a compassionate New Plymouth vet who recognised her fierce will to live, she was given a chance at a better life. When she needed a home, she came to live with us.

She was with us for just over 20 years, and in that time she moved house seven times. She sampled life in small-town New Zealand, then a small city, then the big smoke (Auckland), then back to small-town life again—and for her final year, the rural lifestyle.

Mimi also “trained” all our dogs in the ways of the cat: we can play when we want to… but when we don’t, WE DON’T! She took great delight in stealing their food at the exact same time they were stealing hers. Why is it that someone else’s dinner always tastes better?

Rest easy Mimi – we are sure that you have already made your presence known on the other side.

Ebby was our second Samoyed. Carolyn and Ebby gave dog agility a go for a while. They both enjoyed it, but Ebby’s overriding ambition was to meet and greet every other dog, their handlers, and the general public—so she was never quite focused enough for the sport.

When she was almost seventeen, we had to make the heartbreaking decision to let her go. Ebby had been with us since she was five weeks old, and she saw her share of highs and lows. Through it all, she always had a smile on her face—and somehow, she always managed to put one on ours too.

Run free Ebby—you will always hold a very special place in both our hearts.

Our first fur kid as a couple, Kyla, was an extroverted, grab-life-by-the-throat Samoyed—given to us as an engagement present by David’s parents’ neighbours.

If you don’t know the breed, Samoyeds must be among the happiest creatures on earth. They never seem to have a down day, and Kyla’s expression was the perfect example of the famous “Samoyed smile”—that bright, upturned grin that looks like pure joy.

Originally from the Arctic regions of Siberia, Samoyeds were true all-rounders: herding reindeer, pulling sleds, guarding camp, and living closely with their people. Their strength and stamina also made them popular with polar explorers—Samoyeds were used on Antarctic expeditions, including Shackleton’s.

Kyla came to university with us for our final year and became a much-loved fixture at our student flats, regularly joining in the festivities—complete with sly slurps of our beers. She was a real go-getter, and she adored it when David threw stones out over the surf so she could chase them, then body-surf the waves back in.

Tragically, Kyla was taken from us in the prime of her life. But by then, we were completely smitten with Samoyeds.

Kyla, thank you for all the adventures we shared, and for all the secrets you kept.
A bright star, snuffed out far too early.