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THE INTEGRITY OF "UGLY"
Everyone in the apartment complex that I that 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 ago 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 of 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 your 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 tired to rush to his aid. By the time I got to
where he was laying, it was apparent that Ugly's sad life was almost at
an end. Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back 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 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 there 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 |
