Collage of four cat images: two black line and silhouette cat designs on white, a lying black cat on pink, and a small black and grey sitting cat tattoo on a person's upper back.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Black cat designs and a cat tattoo on upper back

Back · Black and grey · Flash

This collage has four panels. The top two show black cat designs on white, one a stylised tribal-style line cat with a flowing tail and the other a sitting silhouette cat inside crescent moon rings. The lower left panel shows a stretched black cat with yellow eyes on a pink background, and the lower right panel is a photograph of a small sitting cat tattoo in soft black and grey shading on a person's upper back, near the neck.

Back Cat Silhouette Crescent moon Tribal Tail Sitting cat

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The customs hut at Corrin Bridge had no heater after ten, so Marta kept her gloves on while she stamped the manifests, and the black cat watched her from the top of the barrier as though it were the one checking the paperwork. It came every night at the same hour, sitting upright with its tail wrapped round its feet, and nobody on the night shift had ever seen it cross the white line painted across the tarmac.

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The lorry drivers called it the Sentry, though only Dragan ever said it to her face. He was the one who brought coffee in a flask with a dented lid, and on the night the sodium lamps flickered out he set the flask down on the counter and said the cat had gone quiet. It was not on the barrier. It had walked out into the middle of the lanes, where the moon lay in a broken ring on the wet asphalt, and it sat there facing the far side of the border.

A refrigerated trailer came up from the east with its papers in order and its driver sweating through his collar. Marta had the scanner in her hand and the form on the clipboard, and she could have waved him through in a minute. Instead she looked at the cat, which had not moved, and at the line, which it had never crossed. She walked out and lifted the barrier herself, and the trailer rolled by with a long sigh of brakes.

When she turned back the cat had stood up and was walking towards the hut, tail high and curved like the stroke of a brush, stepping over the white paint as if it had never been there at all. Marta locked the gate, pulled off one glove, and wrote in the log that nothing had been declared.