Let's Take A Moment Out Of Our Lives

To commisserate with Walter.....10 years ago I was in a similar situation and if I had been forced to return Jessie to the original owners I would have been devestated.

The courts have taken away Walter Green's best friend and companion on daily morning coffee runs the last two years

By MARK BONOKOSKI

"Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole."

-- Roger Caras

A Celebration of Dogs

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It was a day in March two years ago -- a very dark day in Walter Green's life -- when he had to do what he had to do, and that was to put down his dog, Teddy.

For as long as the regulars at Dip 'n' Sip Donuts can remember, they came early every morning as a pair -- old Walter and his old dog -- to sit on the patio of the Kingston Rd. coffee shop, Walter having his tea, Teddy having his muffin.

And then, one day, Teddy was no more.

"I still can't talk about it," he said weeks later.

Walter Green's life was no longer whole.

Walter Green, a Newfoundlander, will soon be 79; Teddy, a collie-shepherd-husky mix, was 13 when cancer necessitated the final needle, or 91 in dog years.

"I never saw my father cry until he had to put his dog down," he says.

Walter Green cries like his father cried.

Walter Green, seemingly forever dressed in painter's coveralls and painter's hat, educated up to and including Grade 4, came to this city 57 years ago from the Newfoundland backwater of St. Jones Without, a tiny village not far from Trinity Bay.

"We called it St. Jones Without Anything," he says. "There's not a tree in sight. It's on a rock. Only 13 families lived there, including mine."

Walter Green was one of nine children. His father was a fisherman -- fishing cod when there was cod, and herring when the cod went into hiding.

When Walter Green was a boy in St. Jones Without, their home was without running water, without electricity, and without a blade of grass.

Their village was also without a single car.

"Like I said, we lived without anything," he reminds.

Walter Green paints houses for a living, primarily in the Beach and the city's east end, and it is something he has been doing virtually from the day he stepped off the train at Union Station back in 1949.

Even though he is soon to be a year shy of 80, he still works seven days a week, 52 weeks a year.

He has never advertised his talents, hasn't had a business card printed in a half century, and has never been out of work.

"It's word of mouth that keeps me going," he says. "You do a good job, and word spreads.

"And there is no shortage of work."

A few months after Teddy died, Walter Green showed up at the Dip 'n Sip with a stranger in his front seat.

He went to the side of his van, pulled out a piece of carpet remnant, and took it to his old spot on the patio -- just as he used to do when Teddy was in his life.

And then he went back to fetch Chase, a 5-year-old shepherd mix that he had been caring for while its owner, a friend of almost 25 years, was visiting family in Germany. "I think I can win Chase over," he says. "I think my friend will let me keep him. I love dogs, and this one's a pretty good dog."

Walter Green was whole again.

The other day, however, regulars at the Sip 'n' Dip arrived to find Walter Green breaking down in almost uncontrollable tears when they innocently asked where Chase was.

"The courts took him away from me," he told them.

And so they had.

It came out of the blue. One recent day, Walter Green's friend -- the one who went to Germany to visit relatives and left Chase in Walter's care -- found a notice in her mailbox indicating she was being taken to court by the dog's original owner to have it returned, despite the fact she had been caring for the dog, and loaning him out daily to Walter, for the last seven years of Chase's eight years of life.

"My friend has taken care of Chase since he was a puppy, and he's been with me every day for most of those years, " says Walter. "And now they want him back?

"To me, that's cruelty to animals." The entire scenario is a dog's breakfast, of course, and court documents make no more sense of it.

In demanding Chase back, its long-ago owner claims Chase's return will be a "just remedy" for damages allegedly caused to the dog "by way of weight gain and general deterioration of health and well-being."

It was as if the fact that almost seven years had passed, and the dog was no longer a puppy, had been forgotten.

In fact, in people years, Chase is now 56. It also contradicts a document from the vet who has cared for the dog during all the years it has been with Walter Green's friend, and who insists the dog is in good health.

In the end, however, it matters not. Chase, who was given up when it was a pup, is now back with the owner who has not been realistically in the old dog's life for the last seven years.

It's akin to putting a baby up for adoption and then winning it back when it's reached its mid-50s in age.

At least, that's the way Walter Green feels. "It's cruel," he repeats. "Truly cruel.

"Cruel to Chase, and cruel to me."