The Integrity of "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 age 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 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. It 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.
