Ugly

A new year, eh? It makes you feel like you have to write one of those '2006 -- In Retrospect' kind of entries but I'd rather not. And no, I don't have any new year resolutions either -- I can't even remember the last time I made one.

Anyway.

I suppose some of you were wondering where I had disappeared to. My excuse this time is...well, laziness.

Guess I'm back online, huh? I last wrote in what, 2004? Since then, I have:

a) moved house
b) been pregnant

Actually I can't think of other things to write about. It's been so long since I've written that I've gotten out of the habit of thinking about things to write.

Motivation. That's what I lack.

Ideas, I have lots of them. It's already too crowded in my head as it is, but the moment I pick up a pen or switch on the computer things just go downhill.

That word doesn't sound right, and no, you can't use that word again -- you just used it four paragraphs ago. The damn tenses are getting mixed-up -- what are you, a primary school kid? Yes, daddy, your coffee's coming right up. That character is behaving really weird today; are you sure you're writing about the right person? Do people actually talk like that? The keyboard is thwarting my progress. This is too lyrical; you're not here to write poetry. This word doesn't exist in the dictionary but I swear it is a word. There's a cat biting my toe.

Et cetera.

Also. My life has gotten a lot more settled lately, which doesn't help.

I need to write. But everything comes out so wrong.


So I'm good. It's been a quiet year or so - amazing possibilities, terrifying possibilities, laughter, bawling, growth, regression. Everything. But I'm good now and I think things are going to be okay - good, even.



*****intermission*****



I have a love story to tell.

Everyone in the area 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, loving. These three things, together with a life spent outside, had taken their toll 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 had long been lost, leaving only the smallest stub which he would constantly jerk and twitch.

Ugly would have been a dark gray, striped tabby except for the sores covering his head and neck. Even his shoulders were covered 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 your feet in forgiveness.

Whenever he spied children, he would come running, meowing frantically, bumping 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 tried to be friendly to the neighbour's huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my house I could hear his screams, and I rushed to his aid. By the time I got to him, it was apparent that Ugly's sad life was almost at an end. Ugly lay in a wet puddle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white stripe 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 I 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 and suffering, 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, battle-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, 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.

Many people want to be richer, more successful, well-liked, or beautiful. But for me? I want to always try to be Ugly.


p/s: two posts in one day, you people drive me overboard.

written by Aida Halim