Black and grey tattoo of a big cat's head on the ankle of a person sitting on a bed in rolled denim jeans.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Big cat tattoo on an ankle

Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A person sits on a bed in rolled-up light blue denim, with a white knit jumper, rings and a mug of milky drink beside them. A black and grey tattoo of a big cat's head, shaded with dark stripes and grey tones, sits on the ankle. The soft, pale bedding and bright natural light keep the focus on the tattoo.

Ankle Big cat Animal Coffee Bed

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The snow had been falling since Martinmas, and by the time Agnes Tull heard the scratching at the byre door, the lamp oil was nearly gone. She lifted the bar and found a cat sitting in the drift as if it had been sent for. Its head was broad as a bread board, striped dark across the brow and grey at the cheeks, and its breath smoked over the frozen step.

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Her father had always said the hill cats kept to the bracken and never came down to a holding unless they were owed something. Agnes had nothing to give but the heel of the cheese and a bowl of skimmed milk, which the cat drank without once looking away from her. When the ewes began to lamb in the worst of the frost, she found it lying across the feed sacks, and the lambs born that night lived where the others had not.

Come spring the debt was called. A cart came up the lane from the mill with the miller's boy in it, sent to collect the grain tithe her family had promised against the bad year. Agnes sat on the wall and told him the grain was in the cat's keeping now. He laughed until he saw the animal sitting in the gateway, unblinking, the stripes on its face like the marks of a hard winter, and he turned the cart round without a word.

Each year after, she left a saucer of milk on the step before the first snow, and each year the prints in the white yard were the size of a dinner plate. Her grandchildren said the cat had been a cat all along. Agnes said only that a debt paid in lambs is still a debt, and that the foxes never came near the byre again.