The Ugly

Every inhabitant of the apartment where I lived knew how ugly the Ugly was. It was a cat and he liked only three things in the world: fighting, eating garbage and, let’s say, love. The combination of those, plus living without a shelter left some incurable traces on the Ugly’s body. First of all he had only one eye and a hole instead of another on the same side his ear was missing and his left paw had been broken someday and had knitted in such an unbelievable angle that there was an impression that the cat was going turn round the corner. His tail was missing from long ago. There was just piece left which was always shaking.
But for many yellow scabs and dry wounds which covered the head and even the shoulders of the Ugly, he should have been called a dark-grey with stripes cat. Everyone who had ever happened to see him had the same reaction: what an UGLY cat! Every child would be strictly forbidden to touch him. The grown-ups would throw stones at him. He would always be watered from a hose while trying to enter the house or his paw would be pinched between the doors. But every time the Ugly would have one and the same reaction. When he was watered - he would obediently be getting wet until the torches were bugged by that game. When he was thrown at – he rubbed himself against there legs, apologizing. If he saw the children he would run to them and rub his head against their hands, meowing loudly, pleading for kindness. If somebody took him in his hands he would immediately start to suck their shirt or whatever he could get to, just like a kitten.
Once the Ugly wanted to make friends with neighbor dogs. But he was bitten hard. I heard him crying under the window and immediately ran down to help. When I got to him he was almost dead. He was lying curved. His back and legs absolutely lost their shape. His sad life was coming up to the end. A trail from his tear crossed his forehead. While I was carrying him home he was wheezing and gasping. I was careful fearing lest I should bring him more harm. But he was trying to suck my ear. I hugged him. He touched my palm with his head, his golden eye turned to me and I heard him purring. Even standing such torturing pain the cat pleaded for one thing – for a crop of love and sympathy. And that time I thought I was doing with the kindest and the most loving creature I had ever known. The most loving and the most beautiful. He would never bite, or scratch, or even leave me. He looked at me as if I would lessen his pain. The Ugly died in my hands before I could get home and I was sitting holding him on my lap for a long time.
After I thought about a poor cripple could change my thoughts about love and clear souls. The Ugly told me much more then thousands of lectures, books and talks about sympathy. I will always be grateful to him. He had a broken body – my soul was also broken. People want to be wealthier, luckier, be loved and more beautiful. But I would always strive to be Ugly…