My feet are cold because Speedy always slept under the covers curled up at my feet and now he is not there because he is dead.

When we first took Speedy home he had kennel cough. It was gross but the snot was literally dripping out of him. We swore that he would not sleep in our bed. Night one I put him in his own bed at my side and spent most of that night with my arm hung out of the side of the bed comforting him. Night two I made him a nest on a chair with some theory that being level with the bed would make him feel better. Night three I spent all night lifting him off our bed and back over to his chair. Night four we all slept in the bed together!!!

It is deeply uncomfortable to talk about but sometimes those are the topics that need talking about. I don’t sleep well. I have not slept well since the night of the 16^th of March 2014, the night Malcolm died. I was on a strict pumping schedule to get my milk to come in for Malcolm as he lay in special baby care fighting for his life. I had been to see him at 11pm with the meagre few mls I had collected in a syringe. 3 days post c section and 3 days of parenting in special baby care and I was exhausted.

Before I fully knew what had happened at 1.30am I was pulled from my bed, sat upright in a wheelchair and raced round to the special baby care unit. Malcolm’s cot had been shielded with surgical screens and there was a flurry of activity. The doctor talked at me and without fully knowing what had happened they placed him in my arms. They then removed the tubes and lines from his tiny body.

This was the first time that I held my son properly in his whole life without the tubes and the assistance of nurses. I kissed his lips for the first time ever, to this day I am convinced that I caught his last breath. And then he was gone. And then life was dark. And although I was tired in my bones, in my soul, at night I crawled into bed and I could not sleep. I would wake in the night with my milk painful in my breasts sure that I could hear a baby cry. And that went on, every night.

Then Speedy came. And when I woke in the night and I felt like my life was spiralling away from me  I would just reach a foot out and touch his little warm chest. I would will my breathing to fall in line with his. I would allow the rhythmic heartbeat in his little chest to act as a metronome for my grief- tick tock- heart broke- tick tock-heart broke. Then it would pass, the grief crawling up my throat would slide back down to the pit of my belly and I would sleep again, one foot on that tiny chest- grounding me, in some way breathing all the breaths that Malcolm didn’t breathe, a furry vessel for all the love we could not give our son.

And then came healing and building a new life, with Speedy G but without Malcolm and then with Grace but always without Malcolm. Finding joy, finding ways to honour Malcolm and ways to navigate parenting our children- the living one and the dead one. In the dark of the night, there he always was, at my feet, an anchor in the night and a comfort. He comforted me when I didn’t have the words to speak my feelings, when I didn’t have strength to form thoughts into sentences, when I worried that the thoughts I had were so dark that I might not have gone a little bit mad.

After we lost Roland, although it was a very different set of circumstances I was heart shattered at the loss of my blue eyed boy. I would wake in the night and as I crept downstairs to use the bathroom I was sure that I could see Roland’s silhouette on the back of the sofa. I would retreat back to bed and Speedy would be there, ready to soothe me back to sleep.

And now he is gone, my anchor in the night is gone. I wake now and for a moment I feel the ghost of him at my feet then the coldness of the bed breaks the illusion. And I hear the baby cry. And then when I come downstairs I see Roland on the back of the sofa. And when I go back to bed I just feel cold.

I am angry, I am really fucking angry, I am really, really, really fucking really angry.

I am angry because Speedy G died. I am angry that he died and he should not have died.

I am angry because I cannot seem to make other people (the policy makers and law shakers) as angry as I am.

I am angry because suggestions I have had include moving home or going out the back when he comes out the front.

I am angry because there is one dog warden in St Helens. I am not angry at him- I have never spoken to him. He only has a landline number but he is never in the office as he is solely responsible for managing stray dogs in the borough.

I am angry that the local councillors seem to pick and choose which issues they take up. I am angry that all questions are answered with platitudes. I am literally crying out for help and direction and all I get is heartfelt condolences and information that I already had from Google.

I am angry that the police want so hard to serve and protect in their own communities but their hands are tied by outdated legislation and they are always at the mercy of the CPS.

I am angry that the school yard bullies, the tiny assholes, grow up to be front yard bullies, big assholes.

I am angry that the solution to crimes like harassment and stalking inevitably involve admin- log all incidents. Now I love a good spreadsheet as much as the next person but is the solution to the threat of violence really to accurately record it. Someone can make your life a misery but the case can be thrown out because you did not provide detailed enough evidence. Please note that this applies mostly to crimes that mostly affect women- see what I am getting at here.

I am angry that a grown man can threaten me and intimidate my child but I cannot make that information public because it makes him uncomfortable. Top tip- people who intimidate children are frowned upon so if you don’t want to be frowned upon, erm don’t intimidate children.

I am angry at Covid 19- I didn’t get to say goodbye to Speedy because of the stupid fucking Corona virus restrictions but as we all know, those restrictions did not apply to everyone.

I am angry at the RSPCA, they are racking in millions but are absolutely rubbish! They have made no effort to communicate with me or investigate.

I am angry that the man who killed my dog laughs at me. I am angry that he wastes police time making bogus complaints. I am angry that the man who killed my dog films my child and no one seems overtly outraged by that (by no one I mean the aforementioned policy makers and law shakers).

I am angry that when a woman is angry the default response seems to be to tell her that her frustrations are understandable but…..

No buts, I am angry and being angry is exactly the right response to injustice and trauma.

Being angry gets shit done. Sitting on the fence with splinters up your arse or hiding in your house does jack shit. Armchair activism even in the golden age of social media can only get us so far.

Anger gets a bad rep but it can actually be quite useful. Anger is designed to help us survive, I feel angry now because the threats of physical violence and the behaviour directed at my child have triggered my fight or flight receptors- this is good because it will keep me alert.

Anger gives us control. Speedy G being attacked and killed was totally out of my control. Being threatened, being filmed and so on is totally out of my control. Setting up social media, emailing councillors, writing a blog- mine, mine, mine and all in my control.

Anger energises. The emotional weight of this has quite literally sucked the life out of me. I feel like a shell of a human being at the moment but the anger gives me fire.

Anger motivates. It propels us forwards and almost forces us to take action. Neighbourhood Watch, Speedy’s list, all actions.

Anger is awareness of injustice. You don’t get angry at something that is fair and right, right? We feel angry when we know in our gut that something is out of place or downright wrong. This whole thing stinks from the beginning, stinky and squirmy and that is why it makes me angry.

Anger drives us towards our goals. Anger is an active emotion and when we don’t get what we want anger helps us to strategize to get to where we need to be. My case alone didn’t have enough evidence, regroup, reassess and try again.

Anger injects optimism. Being angry and subsequently active stops us from wallowing in victimhood and there is a point where we feel optimistic or hopeful that our anger and actions can actually be a force for positive change. Everyone in my neighbourhood is watching this creep now and when he slips up, no doubt we will see it!

Anger protects our values and beliefs. We are driven to rectify discrepancies that question or threaten our belief systems. My belief system is pretty basic- being kind is good, being mean is bad, simple.

Anger helps us negotiate. It puts us in a better position to try and actively persuade.

With everything going on in the world right now, anger is at the forefront with angry people being told to calm down. My advice- don’t, don’t calm down, don’t let other people invalidate your feelings, take your anger and let it fuel action.

If someone you know is angry, whether you get it or not, do not invalidate their anger, tell them you believe in them, ask what you can do to help, show solidarity but never tell them to give up or hide away, it won’t work!!

Addition:

I wrote this then stepped away from it. In the interim I considered not posting it because I doubted whether it was appropriate to be so publicly angry. So I had to go back to read what I had written to remind myself that anger is totally the right response to what has happened to us.

I am not equating what happened to Speedy G to what happened to George Floyd, not for a second- both horrific but totally different circumstances. George Floyd’s murder is of course the result of hundreds of years of systemic and oppressive racism, Speedy G’s killing is the result of one irresponsible man who we are now fighting to get him held to account for his behaviour. To me, the bottom line is that the problem is bullies, ignorant bullies, mean bullies, hateful little men stomping their way through life. The last few days have seen riots, peaceful protests and displays of solidarity as well as #blackouttuesday so I have seen a lot now about responses to injustice and criticisms of those responses. Anger is very much criticised and I think that anger is being criticised and judged because those in power know that angry people get shit done!!!

I hold on to my right to be angry at the man who killed my dog, I hold on to my right to share my thoughts about that on my social media, put up posters in my window and speak to my neighbours and friends about what happened and how we stop it from happening again. I will not hide away from him, I will not let him drive me from the home I love so much, I will draw strength from my anger and keep going to do the same as the rioters and protestors- to make sure it does not happen again.

Good afternoon Councillors

I did email you on the 14th of May but as yet have not had a response. In fact I emailed all the local Councillors but only had responses from 3 which is quite disappointing.

I live in Thatto Heath which I am aware is not your local area but I would like to raise some concerns regarding an issue that is affecting the whole borough.

On the 15th of April my dog was attacked in an unprovoked attack by another dog. He died the next day as a result of what the vet described as horrific injuries including multiple broken ribs, multiple punctures to the lungs and massive trauma due to being shaken with force. My dog was a Yorkshire Terrier and the dog that attacked him is a German Shepherd.

What followed was what can only be described as a farce- I was sent on a run around from police to dog warden to police to dog warden and back all the way round again making a quick stop at the RSPCA before making a brief visit at environmental health. It would seem that the dog legislation is pretty outdated and very much a grey area but finding one authority to pin down and take responsibility is a job and half. The dog that killed my dog had attacked at least 4 other dogs before mine, has attacked one after and has been involved in a number of incidents of intimidation and harassment over the past few weeks.

It struck me as incredibly frustrating that these attacks had been ongoing before my beloved Speedy G died so needlessly. The owner involved gave false information at 2 attacks and ran away from 2 which scuppered any early interventions. Having discussed the issue with a number of other campaign groups I decided that an option to prevent such future attacks could be to map dog attacks within the area. Mapping would allow us to collate details- people frequent the same dog parks and people recognize dogs. Identifying problem dogs and owners could allow for early interventions, proper education and hopefully prevent further deaths and attacks. 16 dogs a week in the UK are attacked in unprovoked attacks and statistics suggest that only 50% of dog attacks are actually reported. Given the rigmarole I had to go through and the noise I had to make to get anyone to listen to me I am not shocked that people are reluctant to report these attacks, bearing in mind that we were also grieving while having to chase emails and phone calls. 

To be clear- unprovoked attacks are just that, unprovoked, not a miscommunication, not play that got out of hand, just out of the blue- in our case Speedy was walking home on a lead. He had his head down, just wanted to get home for his tea, never bothered with other dogs. My Cranny’s dog was pulling on the lead to get to Speedy- he popped the collar to release his dog who instantly pounced on Speedy and grabbed him across the rib cage and shook him with extreme ferocity and force. He clamped his jaw tight enough to break or fracture almost all the ribs on one side of Speedy’s body causing at least 4 lacerations to the lung.

I began mapping attacks on the 21/5/2020- people were alerting me to attacks via social media. In a period of FOUR DAYS, I logged FIVE incidents of unprovoked dog on dog aggression- all large dogs attacking smaller dogs. One of the attacks was none other that the dog that savaged my Speedy G, not 12 feet away from where he did it but the other attacks happened in other areas of St Helens. 

What strikes me is the ‘big dog’ culture that follows (sociologically I don’t know if this is an actual thing but this is how I term it in my own head). All these attacks and many more experiences that people have shared with me bear the same hallmarks- unapologetic owner, the owner actually blames the smaller dog, owner accepts no responsibility, owner returns to the same area having made no changes, owner is abusive to the owners of the attacked dogs. In our case, this man has left us with £10,000 vet’s bill, no apology, he has threatened me, filmed me without my consent, deliberately intimidated my four year old daughter and continues to this day to parade up and down in front of my house with the dog that brutally ripped my dog apart. The dog has been used in further intimidation of other local women, elderly people and recently a dog walker who has a disability. Again, I can see why the threat of a violent or aggressive reaction would stop someone from reporting an incident. 

Something has to be done Councillors, and something has to be done right now. It is simply not good enough that people are frightened to use their green spaces or are doing so whilst looking over their shoulders because of these bullies. There is no such thing as a bad dog, only a bad owner but these big dogs are a public threat if they are being wielded by uneducated owners. 

What we need now is for someone within the council or the police to take ownership of this. There needs to be a clear and concise policy on how reports of dog attacks are handled and this needs to be agreed and communicated between the council and the police. When dog owners are identified are having problematic dogs they need clear guidance on how to prevent further or escalated attacks and they need clear sanctions should they fail to do the responsible thing. There needs to be more support for victims- https://www.animallaw.info/article/link-cruelty-animals-and-violence-towards-people– although this is American research there are definite links between animal abuse and violence. I know from other people involved in my particular case, they have been too frightened to come forward based on fear of reciprocal violence and research suggests that those fears are founded. The fact is that then dealing with harassment is another legal nightmare- this man threatened me, I put in CCTV to give myself peace of mind, this man reported me, the police came to me to assess if my CCTV was violating his privacy!!! Criminality begets criminality- in our case this man failed to address his dog’s behavior, Speedy died and he made our lives a nightmare, he has faced zero consequences, he signed an informal agreement with the police which he flouts with impunity and all of this inflates his lawless ego so his behavior escalates- further threatening of women, doing things he may or may not be disqualified from doing and so on and we all know the world in full of men like him.

I honestly cannot bear this any longer, seeing my neighbours so frightened and worried, seeing my own child terrified to walk outside her own front door, begging me to move house so this man won’t hurt us. And I know I am not alone. It turns out that in every local park there is someone like me and someone like him. We have to do better- to educate and to enforce.

But I am one lonely voice in the wind and I can’t do it on my own. I have already stuck my head well and truly above the parapet. Please help me to change things, help me to make them better and help me to make people feel safe.

I look forward to hearing from you. If out of interest you want a fuller picture of what has been going on you can see it all on Justice For Speedy G on Facebook or Instagram.

Kindest regards
Nicola Karunaratne- Diver

Can I just come in, don’t worry, you are not in any trouble?

Today we had a visit from a police officer. My dealing with the police has been minimal up to this point in my life mostly because I have been a law abiding citizen for all of my life! Before all this I had one dealing with the police when I had witnessed another person make a threat  against a friend. For Gerard, his dealing had been the night our son died in our arms- the police blue lighted him to the hospital in time for him to say goodbye and kiss his son one last time. This is the 6^th police officer that has been in my home in the last 5 weeks. The variable- he who remains nameless or under a false name. All of these fine officers have set foot in my home as a direct result of Speedy G’s death and he who remains nameless or under a false name hereby known as ‘poo bug’ which is what Grace calls him!

So after Speedy G was quite literally ripped from our lives, the ‘poo bug’ began a reign of terror- harassment, intimidation and threats. I have been very lucky in my life up to now that I have never been on the receiving end of this kind of behaviour but the ‘poo bug’ apparently thought that immediately after my dog died and it was entirely his fault that now would be a good time to start abusing and harassing me.

He films me, he snarls at Grace as she plays in the garden, he roars abuse at me, he makes threats- ‘I don’t discriminate so you better watch your back’- how very equal opps of you dear sir! He intercepts my path home, he follows me around the park, he skulks over and back in front of my house dragged by his dog over and over for hours and hours throughout the day. He backed me into such a corner that I felt even with a £10,000 vet’s bill hanging over me that I could justify the cost of CCTV cameras to act as a deterrent but also to restore some of the peace of mind that had been shattered along with my heart.

Given that the victims to date had all been women, elderly people, disabled people and children I deduced that the threat was probably not massive, but my Sarabi spirit set in with the intimidation of my child thrown into the mix. Coupled with the filming of us as we carried on about our business I could not take the risk as to assume the ‘poo bug’s’ motivation. Up until a few weeks ago I would have never believed that a grown man would make scary faces at a 4 year old under any circumstances let alone the situation we were in so now all bets are off as to what I would bet this man has the potential to do to my child- and this frightens me to my core. Children are sacrosanct and those who seek to harm children in any capacity are held in the worst esteem.

Imagine my surprise when the police came to enquire about my CCTV. A complaint had been made that my CCTV was pointing directly into a certain ‘poo bug’s’ garden. If you are familiar with the set up of our road you will know that this is just slightly inaccurate given that our road directly faces the park- there is no way our CCTV could directly face another person’s garden or home! Well, maybe a squirrel nest but I feed the squirrel so I am sure he will forgive me. The police officer in question did not really need his training to deduce this. Having checked our set up and offered us some helpful hints and tips he went on his way.

My frustration lies in the fact that the ‘poo bug’ who complained is the very reason why we had to install the CCTV in the first place. I did not come from a violent household, I did not witness violence to any degree in my childhood, thankfully. My experiences of violence are limited to seeing drunken bar brawls when I worked in Shit Rock all those years ago. When this ‘poo bug’ ripped from our arms a member of our family, a very important piece of our home, he simultaneously invaded our home with an anger and a threat of violence that we were not prepared for.

There is a physical side effect to grief that no one talks about. Studies have shown that the physical effects of bereavement can be as traumatic as a car crash. This happened to me- a diagnosis almost 6 years in the making- chronic fatigue syndrome, without a doubt caused by the trauma of losing my infant son. No cure, just careful management. I am a patient at the Linda Mc Cartney Centre in Broadgreen hospital in L13 ironically enough. My management plan includes regular exercise, minimal sugar, plenty of water, a number of supplements and not having your fur baby ripped apart by another dog with a history of dangerous behaviour and then not being harassed by the owner of that dog.

I cannot articulate the degree that Speedy G’s death has impacted our lives- emotionally, mentally and physically. I am currently knee deep in the worst flare that I have had in years which puts a toll on me and my family. Chronic fatigue has a massive effect on mental health- depression and anxiety mostly. So with my anxiety already through the roof this ‘poo bug’ has now threatened me and intimidated my child- anxiety= off the charts. Having lost one baby and one fur baby I have no guarantees about the safety of my Gracie Gumdrops. The one thing I felt I could do to make myself feel somewhat safe was buy a few cheap cameras from Curry’s and this invasive parasite seeks to take that small comfort from me now too.

One might ask, why he cares so much? Surely if you are not doing anything sussy or illegal you would not be bothered about who was watching you? If you were, for example banned from doing something and you were doing it frequently I could understand your concern but if you are an otherwise upstanding member of society who just happens to have a dog with savage tendencies that why would you be worried? In an oxymoronic twist, the ‘poo bug’ now seems confused about who is the wronged party and which party has had morally reprehensible behaviour.

‘Can I come in, don’t worry, you are not in any trouble?’

Yes, of course you can officer. Let us discuss my CCTV and the reason why I got the CCTV in the first place. Please come in and speak to my child, the child who is different now than she was 5 weeks ago, come and speak to her because your presence offers her reassurance. I invite you to enter our home to work with us as we seek to drive out what has invaded our home and our community.

Well, the short answer is that we cannot afford to because the irresponsible behaviour of one person has left us £10,000 in the hole.

The long answer is another questions- why should we?

The conversation and the ensuing ‘mom heart wrench’ came about on a casual Saturday while I was folding the perpetual washing and Grace was playing with her Barbies. She dropped this bomb on me- ‘Mammy, why can’t we just move?’. We have lived here in this house, our haven, our corner of the sky since before she was born. We have never even talked about moving so I was not sure where she had got the idea from. After a bit of further questioning it turns out that my four year old is afraid that the man responsible for the death of Speedy G will escalate and hurt her mum or dad.

Throughout my adult education- university, teacher training, youth work training, we came back time and time again to good old Maslow and his hierarchy of needs. Stood in my bedroom clutching my husband’s novelty underpants I was struck by the horrifying idea that Grace may never achieve self- actualisation because currently she is being denied the second tier of the hierarchy of needs- safety and security.

Grace has had a pretty good existence up to this point. She is well loved, has many friends, good family relationships, lives in a nice community. She might have felt sadness or frustrations but all within the normal range of a fairly normal family. Gerard and I have guided through her life so far trying to give her the appropriate tools and skills to deal with the cards of life as she is dealt them. Until April 15^th.

On the 15^th of April, when Speedy G was attacked, Grace learned about worry, true concern for someone you love. She learned about uncertainty as she waited with us for the vet the phone with an update. The following day she learned about loss, about pain and about grief. In the days that came after, my child, my beautiful rainbow baby learned a few more harsh lessons. She learned that some adults can be really, really mean, for no good reason. She learned that some grown ups will never take responsibility for their actions. She learned that some men can threaten and abuse women in the street. She learned that mum and dad can and will cry and sob and be angry. She learned that although we told her positive behaviour equals positive consequences, some people can have negative behaviour and have absolutely zero negative consequences.

In her whole life, whenever she felt sad or unsure she always reached out for Speedy G. As a rescue dog we were never sure about how he would behave with her but he fell in love with her as soon as she came home. That dog knew, for sure, what we have loved and lost and lived through to get to the point where we brought that little big headed baby home. When I look at her baby pictures now there is barely a snap of her where you cannot see his little tail or a paw or a snout. He lived for the moment her heard her coming home from school, bouncing up to the window to catch a glimpse of her. As soon as she saw his shiny snout through the blinds and called his name he would be at the door like a coiled spring, ready to shower her with kisses.

Now that is shattered for her. I see her now always keeping one eye on his house should he come out. When he comes out with the dog that savaged Speedy G I see the confusion in her little face. The other day she was playing on her scooter and he came out of his house- she was on one side of him and I was on the other and I could see the terror and the panic in her gorgeous face.

She asks me why this man is so hateful and so mean and I have no mature answer for her. Perhaps he is culmination of a confluence of harsh events but I neither know nor care.

The death of Speedy G was brutal enough, the dirty invasion of our grief with his intimidation and harassment was even more savage but I feel now like he forced my hand as a parent. I have been backed into a parental corner and am having to answer questions about things that I am not prepared for. He has forced my child to feel and experience things she should not be dealing with at four years of age.

And at four, she will remember these experiences now and she will remember the explanations we give her. It sounds dramatic but it is true- what he has done has sullied her childhood. Seeing him parading his dog past our house, watching his film us, hearing him roaring at me in the street, being frightened when he makes scary faces at her and seeing all that go unpunished makes a liar out of Gerard and I and Disney movies when we tell her that bad people will be punished and good things happen to good people.

But Grace is so inherently kind that she worries about how he treats his dog, she worries that he is as nasty to his partner as he has been to her and I, she worries that he will hurt someone she cares about, she worries that the dog will attack another dog she cares about, she worries, she worries, she worries. She is four, she should not be worrying!!!!

‘Mammy, why can’t we just move?’

‘Because this is our home Grace and we love living here, Speedy G loved living here. We cannot run away from bullies, we must stand our ground and show them that it is they who are not welcome. We are entitled to stay here in our home and to feel safe and although you are struggling with that right now, you have to have faith that his behaviour will catch up to him and that the police will keep us safe.

And also, I hate packing.’
—
Kind RegardsNicola Karunaratne-DiverAdministrator
St Helens DC1-2 Lock Street,St HelensWA9 1HS
01793 6897

So today I sent a letter to the local councillors (48 of them) to share the experiences of other people in our community who have been affected by what has happened to Speedy G.

I have deliberately not named the man in question but my own local Councillors are aware of the case and have been since the day after Speedy G died.

Initially the call to action was a petition but I was concerned that a petition against an individual would be deliberately misconstrued as harassment but the stories that I was being told deserved to be shared. I know from my own trade union background that change happens when enough people speak up in the same voice so this is what we had to say…..

‘Dear Councillors

I hope this letter finds you well.

Before you begin to read this I just want to clarify that this letter is not from me, Nicola Karunaratne- Diver. At this stage you are all well versed in our complaint- the savage attack on Speedy G, his subsequent death and the frightening and invasive behaviour against me and my child. I know that you are also very familiar with my frustrations with the ‘system’ as it stands and my anger that the man who has caused so much pain within my family as yet has had no consequences. This letter is an open letter to you, our councillors, from us, the people of Thatto Heath.

Many of my neighbours and friends have been sharing with me their own experiences of this man and how his behaviour has affected them. It would appear that there is now a ‘collective’ harassment. I am going to share some of those thoughts with you now:

You may be familiar with ‘Dog Box Josh’, a lovely young man who had the gorgeously innocent and altruistic idea to leave boxes of dog toys in the park for dogs to use on their walks. This idea was reported in the local media and local residents were so heart gladden by this young man and his lovely idea. I myself put some of Speedy G’s toys in the box after he died and felt somewhat comforted to know that the joy those things brought to Speedy would bring further joy to other dogs and their owners. Josh’s family now tell me that Josh feels frightened when he is on the park and is too preoccupied looking over his shoulder for the dog that has attacked so many dogs in our park they he cannot relax enough to enjoy playing with his own dogs.

A woman who lives locally has shared with me that her anxiety is as she describes- ‘sky high’. She has stopped walked her dog on Thatto Heath park completely and is now using other parks. As reports come in that this man has been spotted in other parks, walking on Sherdley Park or Taylor Park has become as frightening a prospect as walking on Thatto Heath. As news spread that this man was being verbally abusive and threatening physical violence this has distressed this woman even further as she now questions how she would defend herself against an attack. This is ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous that this woman is being made to feel this way.

Another resident stressed the effect of all of this on the mental health of local families especially during the Covid-19 crisis. We are being encouraged by the government to take our daily exercise in our local parks and for those who us who are now concerned about this man and his dog, that is not a viable option. Many of us are fit and able enough to make the further journey to a different green space but demographically there are lots of older people in this area so if they are concerned, what is their alternative?

I spoke to a long term resident of Elm Road who tells me that in the 20 plus years she has lived here she could count the number of dog attacks on one hand until now. Since he moved to the area there have been at least 7 dog attacks and 3 separate incidents of harassment or intimidation. I have myself, seen this lady (who is an incredibly kind and warm hearted lady) reduced to tears and shaking with fear when she sees him approaching on the park. She is now walking her elderly dog early in the morning and bringing a walking stick as she feels it awards her some protection. People in our community should not feel like they need protection!

One disabled lady told me that for her the park is a necessity- she needs to be able to park up and wait until her pain subsides before she can walk her dog. She needs to be able to walk her dog at a leisurely pace and relies on the benches to rest as she makes her way around. She cannot physically run so feels especially physically vulnerable.

One lady, who herself is a victim of this man, as I am, detailed to me her experience of having him ‘glare’ at her and told me about the ‘torrents of abuse and threats.’ She describes him as aggressive and unapologetic. True to his narcissism he paints a different version of himself to the authorities.

Interestingly I spoke to a lady on VE day who expressed her anger and disappointment that both of her grandfathers had fought in WW2 and now here she was, 75 years later, too frightened to use her local amenities, denied that freedom by one man.

I find it both interesting and horrifying that to now this man’s behaviour seems to only impact women and children. When his dog first attacked another local dog and he was confronted by the male owner (after giving a false name and address), he handed over the cash for the vet bill, no argument, no questions asked. According to Paladin, 700,000 women are the victims of stalking and harassment every year. 1 in 5 women experience harassment in their lifetime- this was my first experience but I am devastated that at 4 years of age my own daughter has had her first experience of harassment and intimidation. Typically most women don’t report the harassment until after the 100^th incident so although we know what this man has done to me and my daughter, we cannot and may never know the extent of his network of victims. He has followed at least one other woman early in the morning and made threats against a number of other women locally. It is also worth noting that 1 in 2 stalkers act on their threats so while we scoff at the ridiculousness of this man and his doorstep diatribes, there is a very real, very uncomfortable potential for physical violence.

But, as always, what prevails in Thatto Heath is the community spirit- this community spirit that helped us raise awareness about the attacks, helped us raise money to pay a crippling bill, gave us food hampers, bought us tokens of remembrance, provided safe places for my daughter to play when she feels frightened, provided me the physical resources that I needed as a parent to guide her through this. Community spirit is so desperately important especially in an area like Thatto Heath. During the Covid 19 crisis we have seen in spades the importance of community spirit in helping the community to survive and in ensuring the safety of our most vulnerable. This spirit is a force for change and a collective compassion that sees us willing, to some degree to sacrifice our own interests for the good of the community. Dichotomously, within the community we are indignant at the antisocial behaviour of one man that we have seen go seemingly unchallenged and proud of the activism that we see as we push to stop this man terrorising our park.

As our chosen representatives our expectation is that you continue to highlight this issue- to the police, to the council, to dog enforcement, to environmental health, to your neighbours- to every single person who can listen and may be able to help. I don’t presume to tell you your role or won’t patronise you with definitions of your duties but there is a mood of fear now within our community and that mood can only be alleviated by action and reassuring measures.

Yours sincerely

Nicola Karunaratne-Diver, on behalf of the residents of Thatto Heath.’

‘Why are my floors so dirty?’

I keep saying this aloud, to myself, to anyone who can listen. Ironically the only thing that always listened to me was Speedy G!

‘Why are my floors so dirty?’- simple answer, because Speedy is gone. He was a more dependable hoover than my Vax. When I am chopping in the kitchen and food scraps make their way to the floor I anticipate the sound of him bouncing off the arm of the sofa and skidding into the kitchen to reap the rewards of a clumsy hand. Now I have to live a life where I have to either be careful when chopping or pick up food remnants off the floor- what kind of life is this!? When I chop carrots I still, without thinking, save one piece for him. That was one of his treats, his reward for being my faithful companion. He was always my faithful companion- through movies and shows, while reading, while talking to friends and family, long nights of breastfeeding and before that long nights spent clutching a pregnant belly willing the reassurance of those flutters and kicks and even before that in the days when the dense fog of grief had not yet lifted and time lost all meaning he was there, without question, without compromise, without judgement, a grounding, an anchor and an outlet for all the love we had that we could not give.

The same with apple cores- the first time after he was gone that I threw away an apple core I sobbed and have hardly been able to bring myself to eat an apple since. I used to dread cleaning out his bed knowing I would find the half eaten cores, brown and buried. Seeley sleeps in his bed now so it is still there but it serves solely as a bed, not the doggy treasure trove it once was- yoghurt pots, crisp packets, half eaten dental sticks- the legacy of a dog who survived in the wild for an unknown time before he came to save us.

When I worked in Healthy Living and I delivered the Introducing Solid Food sessions, my number one tip for baby led weaning was to get a dog. No amount of wipe clean table cloths, mom hacks or mental Ebay inventions can take the place of a truffling, snuffling snout.

When I do sweep the floors now I miss game we used to play where he was walk, nose first, through my careful piles of dirt and I would have to chase him to pull the cat hair off his shiny black nose. I miss the terror I would see in his little eyes when I would pull the hoover out. To save face though, as soon as it was unplugged he would strut past it like he didn’t have a care in the world when only minutes before he would have been in the strangest places- shoe cupboard, on the chair with Big Nancy, in a box of colouring books and even once in the cat litter tray- hiding, shaking like the proverbial shitting dog.

Now when I mop the floors, they dry clean, streak free, paw print free. He used to sit for hours, snoozing the day away but as soon as I mopped it was like he had to walk on every inch of it, stamping it with his little jelly beans, those little paws that held my broken heart together.

“Petting, scratching, and cuddling a dog could be as soothing to the mind and heart as deep meditation and almost as good for the soul as prayer.” Dean Koontz