21 March 2012
This is a story for those that...well, are like me. Those that hate themselves for how they look and only want love.
Everyone in the apartment complex that I lived in knew Ugly. He was the resident tomcat, who loved three things: eating garbage, fighting, and remarkably, love. The combination of these three things and a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly. For starters, he had only one eye, and where the other one should be was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side. His left foot appeared to be broken at a time, and healed at such an awkward angle that it looked like he was always rounding a corner. His tail was long since gone, leaving only a black stub that would always jerk and twitch.
Ugly would have been a dark grey tabby cat, had he not had infected, yellow scabs that covered most of his head, neck, and torso. Everyone who saw Ugly had the same reaction. "That's one UGLY cat!" All children were told to stay away from him, while the adults would throw things at him, hose him, squirt him when he tried to get inside their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he got too close. Ugly always had the same reaction. When he was hosed, he would just stand there, soaking wet. When things were thrown at him, he would wrap his lanky body around the leg, forgivingly. When he spied children, he would rush to them and bump his head on their hands, mewing for love. If anyone picked him up, he would push his head against their chest, and suckle on a shirt or earring, what ever he could get to.
One day Ugly shared his love with the neighborhood huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his desperate screams, and I rushed to his aid. But when I got to where Ugly was laying, it was apparent that his life was almost to an end.
Ugly lay in a pool of his own blood, his back legs and lower back twisted gruesomely out of shape. A red tear cut through the white patches of fur, and ran up his front. As I picked him up to carry him home, I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and I knew he was just barely holding on. He let a few little painful mews, and I knew that I must have been hurting him even worse.
Then I felt a familiar, sucking sensation on my earlobe. Ugly, in so much pain and obviously dying, was desperately suckling my ear. I held him closer to me, and he bumped his head against the palm of my hand. Then, Ugly turned his one golden eye at me, and I could hear soft and raspy purring. Even in great pain, that ugly, battle-scarred cat was only asking for a little affection, even companionship.
At that moment, I thought that Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once had he tried to bite or scratch me, or get away from me, or struggle from my grasp. He just looked at me with the saddest, most trusting look in my eyes, like he knew that I'd relieve his pain.
Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I held his rapidly freezing body in my arms, thinking how one scarred, deformed stray could alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so deeply and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books or lectures ever could, and for that I was grateful.
Ugly may of been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and I knew that I needed to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I care for.
Many people wanted to be rich, successful, and beautiful. But for me, I will always try to be Ugly.
Ugly • Opuss № I