Remembering Kaithan

“When you lose something you can’t replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse”

It’s been almost 1.5 years. But I can’t let him go.

I had a few dogs before… one in my early childhood, a Sinhala hound who wasn’t actually mine but a neighbor’s. That dog really made me realize how a dog could turn into a best friend. After that, I rescued a stray who was insanely loyal to me—he’d literally starve to death if I told him not to eat. Eventually, they faded into good memories…

And then the protagonist came into the story: Kaithan (who literally got his name for what he did).

He was a tiny pup when he came to my house, and we bonded instantly. He grew up with me, learned from me, and got flipped, thrown around, and wrestled by me. We were playful partners in crime.

That guy had a weird personality, though. Bro was way too egoistic. He acted like he didn’t care at all. He knew when we were talking to him, but he’d intentionally ignore us. But whenever I was in my room, he’d peek his wet nose in, check slowly to see if I was doing okay, and then just walk away. He didn’t want us to know that he cared.

Once, when I bought a new bike home, five of us pulled up on four bikes. A friend rode my bike into the yard, and the very first second after he parked it, that MF came right up to it and peed to mark his territory.

After I moved to Colombo, I only visited home once a month. But whenever I came back, this guy recognized my bike’s exhaust note from a mile away.

He had this weird routine, too. He’d walk to school with the neighborhood kids, come back home right when the school interval ended, eat his lunch, and take a midday nap. Then he’d wake up, go to the front yard, sit with his paws crossed, and judge the people walking down the road until around 7 PM.

We had some great memories with him. The whole village loved him for his presence.

However, every good thing has an end.

I lost him last year. He caught a viral infection, and the vet said it couldn’t be cured. (I didn’t even know about any of this until it was happening.)

He took his last breath while staring at my bike’s parking spot. Maybe he was looking for me to pet him in his last moments… or maybe he just wanted to give me that final “fuck you” look.

The last memory I have with him is me having a smoke under the moon while he sat on a nearby rock with his legs crossed. That’s the last thing I remember with him.

I know you’re waiting for me at the gates of heaven or hell—whichever one you went to.

I really miss you. Bro.