I nod—yes, I’ve read it—then repeat the gesture twice more. This is something positive, a “yes”-themed thing I can do with my head that I can also hide behind.
The #InnocentChamp campaign… How can such a thing exist? And, since it does, how am I not in sole charge of it? I can’t bear it. I want to scream and punch the bed until I’ve expelled all my rage. How could Ree do all this without me? She must never, ever find out how betrayed I feel. I don’t think she’d be able to forgive me for feeling as angry with her as I do now.
I tell myself that of course she hasn’t betrayed or abandoned me. She’s just trying to help. I’m shocked, that’s all. We’re on the same side, me and Ree.
It’s the Universe that’s let me down, I decide.I thought we had a deal, Universe. I thought the deal was: massive suffering in family of origin accepted without complaint or even a mention, but then my reward is: no suffering in chosen, created family. None caused by family members, anyway.
“I just didn’t want anyone thinking Gone Dog and Gone Girl might have anything in common, as characters, because they don’t,” says Ree.
Corinne nods. “That’s good thinking, Ree. #InnocentChamp is perfect, and bang on point. That’s the key message we need to put out: He didn’t do this. It wasn’t him.”
“So, now it’s all coordinated,” Ree tells me. “We’ve got the same hashtag across all platforms: InnocentChamp. No spaces, capital I, capital C.”
“Right,” I say. I don’t know what’s happened to my emotions, which were right here only a moment ago and are usually pretty close to the surface, even if I have to hide them most of the time.Hashtag Gone Feelings. For the time being, I can’t seem to reach them. I would need to be convinced, in fact, that I have any. This is scarier than the anger was.
Silently, I recite to myself all the most upsetting things I can think of:Your darling dog is not your own. The authorities can take him if they want to. Nothing is safe. The legal system can take Champ and kill him if it wants to, even though he’s the sweetest soul that could ever exist.
Nothing happens. I wonder about the possibility that I will never have a feeling again, but even that doesn’t move the emotional needle away from zero.
***
Large—I’m guessing this next bit is from at least a week later. It’s about Champ’s night song. I’m sure by now you’ve heard all the different versions. Here’s a fascinating detail you might not know, though, and I only found it out from a piece I read where someone had done a proper analysis: In the end, there were more onlineposts arguing about “Land of Cute and Furry” (which lyrics are better, the whole privilege/colonialism thing) than there were arguing about Champ having bitten Tess Gavey versus him being innocent. Can you believe that? Well, according to this guy (who admittedly might be wrong—I’m not sure how to check), it’s true.
***
“If you ask me,” says Mark, “the worst change is ‘thee’ to ‘you’ and ‘thy’ to ‘your.’ The song’s a period piece. It doesn’t sound right with modern language.” From there, he launches into a rant about churches in which the proper wording of the Lord’s Prayer has been abandoned in favor of easier language: “‘Yours’ is the kingdom? What’s wrong with ‘Thine’?” Ten minutes on the Book of Common Prayer follow, and how there are almost no churches in Cambridgeshire that care about it anymore.
“I couldn’t give a monkey’s about ‘thee’ versus ‘you,’” I say. “What I’m not willing to tolerate is ‘God who made thee bitey, make thee bitier yet.’ Champ isn’t bitey. He didn’t—”
A groan comes from Ree. “Mum, how many times? You can say you won’t tolerate it all you like, but people are singing it—as many who are on our side as who aren’t. And they’ll probably carry on. Not gonna lie, there’s a whole…faction of people out there who’d love Champ even more at this point if it turned out he did bite Tess! They’d love him to get bitey so that he can defeat the bad guys.”
“But you said the ‘bitey/bitier’ version came from Tess’s supporters originally,” I say. “I just don’t understand why—”
“Mum, trust,” says Tobes. “The official #InnocentChampcampaign has made its position very clear: It’s ‘God who made thee cuddly/Make thee cuddlier yet.’ The overwhelming majority of Champ fans are still singing that version.”
“It’s just a shame ‘bitey’ rhymes with ‘mighty,’” says Mark.
“It should be ‘fighty.’” Tobes yawns. “That rhymes with ‘mighty,’ but also, you can fight for justice, can’t you?”
“I reckon I could bite for justice too,” says Ree.
“It doesn’t matter,” says Mark. “What matters is that this campaign has turned out to be a brilliant thing. It changes everything. Champ’s case is so high profile now, there’s no way the authorities could whiz him off and put him to sleep without due process—not while people are writing about him in national newspapers. We’ll be able to prove—”
“And what if the police don’t accept our proof?” I cut him off. “Tess’s wound’s bound to be healing by now. What if the tooth marks aren’t distinct enough anymore for us to prove they’re not Champ’s?”
“Then we work on consolidating his alibi,” says Mark. “We launch an initiative to find people who saw you walking him by the lode that afternoon.”
“Launch an initiative?” He’s been listening to Corinne for too long. “Mark, I don’t know how to launch a bloody initiative, and neither do you.”
“Never lost a fight.” Toby holds up his hands. “Just saying.”
“We’re not going back,” I say in a steely voice I’ve never used before apart from silently in my head. “And the lyrics of Champ’s night song aren’t up for negotiation. It’s ‘God who made thee cuddly/Make thee cuddlier yet.’ Please, somebody who visits TikTok and Instagram regularly—”
“‘Visits TikTok’?” Toby yelps.
“It’d legit be crease if it wasn’t so cringe,” says Ree.
“—make it clear that Champ’s mum requires all his supporters to stop changing the words.” I ignore my children’s derision and carry on issuing orders. “They’remywords, aboutmydog. No one gets to change them without my permission. Also, Ree, I don’t want Champ associatedin any waywith your new crop of best mates whose dogs have eaten toddlers and chewed people’s legs off.”
