We first met Akira when she was just eight weeks old, after our neighbour brought her home from a trip to Montreal. A few years later, we took over her care, and she remained with us until her last day.

Akira (also known as Akouri, Kookoo and LEAVE IT, AKIRA!) was a hurricane from day one. Once, after getting out of her collar downtown, she was picked up by a motorist 10 km from the house on Highway 7. Later, she learned to break out of the windows of our ground-floor apartment. She wasn't interested in running across the city anymore. Instead, she focused on sneaking into the local pizza shop and trying to casually stand in line for a burrito. We obtained child locks after that.

We often joked that she was just four cats stuffed into a dog suit. She knew many tricks, but only did them if she felt like it and the reward was good enough. She listened when it suited her, and she was not particularly interested in being cuddled. Many times, we would come home from a hard day of work and look to her for comfort, only for her to let out a loud sigh and walk away from us as if to say, “I can't even with these dorks.”

She showed her love for us in her own way: by always wanting to be in the same room and by cuddling up to us in bed. She often barked in the middle of the night until her dad would give up and go sleep on the couch so she could have his spot next to Mom.

She was by no means an easy dog, but she was our whole world. When we found out two years ago that she had liver disease, we knew that every day was a bonus. When her arthritis became so bad that she could no longer walk more than a block away (and even that was painful) we knew we had to make the impossible choice to let her go before her suffering became too much.

Akira made us more patient, more resilient, and significantly poorer. Of course, we would do it all over again if given the choice.

She leaves behind her little cat sister, Harry, who will be glad to no longer have her food constantly stolen and to finally have the dog bed to herself. She was preceded in death by her older cat brothers, Stanley and Ollie, whom she did not miss and apparently did not even notice were gone. 

There are so many people who have impacted Akira's life in amazing ways that we cannot possibly thank everyone, but we would like to take a moment to mention her veterinary team at Brealey Drive Animal Clinic, led by Dr. Tracy Manley and her incredible staff. They are a big part of the reason we were able to give Akira the best possible life for as long as we did. They guided us through some very difficult years with insight, compassion, love and a deep generosity of spirit, and we will be forever grateful to them.

We would love for you to share your stories of Akira over the years. If you have pictures or videos, please share those with us too. We know she touched many lives in her own very particular way, and we would love to hear about the Akira you knew.

If you feel moved to help in some way, we are reminded that we were lucky enough to be able to afford Akira's very expensive care over the years, but many people are not as fortunate. Organizations like the Farley Foundation help people whose beloved pets need urgent veterinary care but whose families cannot manage the cost. In Akira's memory, we would be grateful if you considered supporting them.

Akira was never an easy dog. She was stubborn, independent, mischievous, expensive, occasionally exasperating and completely, irrevocably herself.

She was also our baby and we loved her more than she could have ever known.