Ugly
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
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 since 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 ever picked up he would immediately begin suckling on
your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.
One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbor’s 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.
--author unknown, but mark me down as an "Ugly"
wannabe;-)
Special thanks to Gerry Coffey for
this submission
April 1999
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