Realistic black cat with purple-tinged eyes peeking over cream paws, with script reading Wherever I may be let the wind blow free below it on the upper arm.

Black cat peeking over paws with script

Realism · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

A black cat with a curled tail peers over a ledge, showing two cream-coloured paws and violet-tinged eyes. The cat is shaded in smooth black and grey with soft highlights on the fur, and a faint purple wash sits beneath the paws. Below the cat, a black cursive script line reads Wherever I may be let the wind blow free across the arm.

Realism Upper arm Cat Black cat Paw Tail Eye Script Quote Wind

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mind the third step, it gives under a boot. That's it. Sit by the stove and I'll tell you about Pennock's cat, though the Trinity men will tell you it was the lamp that saved the Mercy and not the cat, and they're welcome to their opinion. The cat came ashore off the supply boat in the autumn of the big gale, black as the inside of a coal scuttle, with a tail that curled like a question. She wouldn't go down to the cottage. She climbed the iron stair, every one of its hundred and twelve steps, and took up her place on the sill of the lantern room, where she could sit with her cream paws tucked under her and watch the sea through the glass.

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Fog came in the night the Mercy went onto the Scarrow rocks. Pennock could see nothing past the rail, and the wick had clogged with salt, so the beam had gone to a sick yellow smudge. He was swearing and fumbling with the trimmers when the cat stood up on the sill and began to yowl at the western window. He told me afterwards he'd have ignored a dog doing the same, but he looked where she was looking. There, out past the rocks, was a little light moving the wrong way, and a man in the bow with a lantern held high, shouting for a way in.

Pennock trimmed that wick by feel, with the cat's eyes on him the whole time. The Mercy's crew came in on the back of the swell, every soul of them, and the cat never once blinked. She lived another eleven winters on that sill. When she died, Pennock buried her under the rock where the gulls can't get at her, and he said the same thing to her grave every evening that he used to say to her at the rail, that she should go wherever she liked, only to mind the wind. On still nights you can still see two pale paws on the sill of the lantern room, if you're fool enough to climb up and look.