Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who
Ugly was. Ugly was
the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting,
eating
garbage, and shall we say, love. The combination of these things
combined
with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly. To start with, he
had only
one eye, and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was
also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot has appeared to
have
been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle,
making
him look like he was always turning the corner. His tail has long been
lost,
leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and
twitch.
Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby striped-type, except for the
sores
covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs.
Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. "That's one
UGLY cat!!" All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults
threw
rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in
their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly
always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would
stand
there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at
him,
he would curl his lanky body around feet in forgiveness. Whenever he
spied
children, he would come running meowing frantically and bump his head
against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him up
he
would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he
could
find.
One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbors huskies.
They did not
respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could
hear
his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where
he was
laying, it was apparent Ugly's sad life was almost at an end. Ugly lay
in a
wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a
gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I
picked him
up and tried to carry him home I could hear him wheezing and gasping,
and
could feel him struggling. I must be hurting him terribly I thought.
Then I felt
a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear -- Ugly, in so much
pain,
suffering and obviously dying was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him
closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he
turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct
sound
of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled-scarred cat was
asking
only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.
At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful,
loving creature I had
ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to
get
away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me
completely
trusting in me to relieve his pain. Ugly died in my arms before I could
get
inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking
about
how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about
what
it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly.
Ugly
taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books,
lectures,
or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be
thankful. He had
been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was
time
for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total
to those
I cared for.
Many people want to be richer, more successful, well
liked, beautiful, but
for me, I will always try to be Ugly.
anonymous
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Events: NYC Area and Beyond
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