First Love, or Asher

I just got my latest copy of The Sun magazine.  My favorite part is "Readers Write," where readers write a few paragraphs on a given theme.  I always read this section first.  Jack reads it, too.

This month, the topic is First Love, which remind me of the story of Asher.  I met Asher one day at U Village.  Claire Adele and I were shopping at U Village a few years ago when I saw him in the Seattle Humane Society mobile shelter.  Asher was a German Wirehaired Pointer mixed with a shepherding dog.  I walked in the mobile shelter, and Asher snuggled against my thigh, as if I were his.  "Just letting you know I am here," he said as his back met my leg.  He wasn't jumpy or trying to get my attention.  He was a comfortable and confident dog.  And he was so ugly he was cute.  He was white with a big lopsided head.  He had one blue eye and one hazel eye.  His body is a patchwork of colors.  It was love at first sight.  I had a dog growing up that I loved, but Clancy belonged to my mom.  I was being a little selfish in wanting a dog who loved me most.

I rubbed Asher's back, and my hand was covered with fur.  This was a bad sign.  I am certainly allergic to cats, and allergic to some dogs.  Would my love for Asher last if I were to spend the next next years miserably sneezing?  I wasn't sure, so I paused.  Jack was at home with the Boy, and I am sure he would not have been pleased if I came home with a dog, especially one who weighed about 50 pounds.

When I got home without Asher, I read up on Asher's breeds to see if he would be reasonable.  According to my research, Asher's breed is loyal, friendly, intelligent, affectionate, active and willful.  All good things, I thought.  The Humane Society's description of Asher matched the breed traits, which was good.  I stalked the Seattle Humane Societies website to see if Asher was still there.  I showed my family his picture.  I have never done online dating, but I imagine it is close to looking for a dog online.  You can read all about someone in the digital world, but chemistry is real.

A few days later, I got my haircut.  My hairdresser has dogs, so I asked him what he thought about Asher as his dogs were of a similar breed.

"Do you have horses?" he asked.

"Ah, no," I said.  It should have been obvious.  I live in the city in a small house with a small lot.  No horses.  I am not a country girl.

"That dog was bred to keep up with horses," he said.  "It is a hunting and cattle herding dog.  Unless you have horses, I would not recommend a dog like that.  They can run for hours and still want to run for hours."

"But he is so cute and I love him and he loves me..." I said.

"Do you have horses?" he replied.

I got the point.  He was right.  Asher descended from dogs who were bred to work.  The description of dog breeds are euphemistic.  "Intelligent" means he will eat your furniture if he doesn't get enough exercise.  He will figure out how to get in your garbage can to find the leftovers from last night's steak dinner.  "Loyal" means they only obey a small number of people.  "Affectionate" means they jump on you.  "Active" and "willful" straight forward, and are traits you want in a dog who can keep up with horses for eight hours a day.  The total picture: "We warned you this dog is a handful."

Even though Asher was the wrong dog for me, I continued to follow him online.  One day I went to the website, and Asher was gone.  The good news for the Seattle Humane Society is that good dogs go fast.  He who hesitates is lost.  Or loses.  Asher was not to be mine.

A year later, we got Fox.  Hooray!  But that is not the end.  Like many of the "First Love" stories in The Sun, the write someone finds his or her first love years later.

I was at tea with a friend who lives in Maple Leaf, and we started talking about our dogs.  I told her about my first love, Asher, and how we were kept apart by my fear of allergies and lack of horses.

"How long ago was this?" she asked, so I told her.

"What does Asher look like?"

"His eyes are off center, and his head has an odd shape. He is kind of ugly..." I said.

"...so ugly he's cute?" she asked.

"Yes!"

"Asher lives down the street from me."

I couldn't believe it.  I found Asher, and Asher found a home.  "How much exercise does he need?" I asked.

"His owner is a runner, and takes him out every day."

I was glad Asher was happy.  His new family was probably a better match, as Fox is a great match for us.  But there will always be a little spot in my heart for the dog so ugly he's cute.