Colourful tattoo of a cat with blue daisy-like flowers over its eyes, shaded in blue, teal, yellow and orange on the outer thigh.

Blue cat with flower eyes on a thigh

Thigh · Colour · Photo

A cat's face with a wide, smiling mouth and blue flowers with yellow centres covering its eyes, with leaves in teal green. The fur is rendered in soft, feathery blue, teal, orange and yellow strokes that fade into a speckled yellow and orange background. The tattoo sits on a pale thigh with a patterned fabric and a maroon garment at the edges of the frame.

Thigh Cat Flower Daisy Leaves Cat face Eye Whiskers

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Tobias had not been asked to wear the daisies, but he had never once been asked to do anything, so he went on wearing them. Every morning he sat on the sill of the back bedroom in Hollin Row and pressed two blue blooms over his eyes, tucking the teal leaves behind his ears like a man settling his hat. Mrs Abernethy, who kept the lodging house, called it vanity. Tobias said it was a matter of principle, and that a cat who could not see the rent book could not be sent to the vet.

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The trouble began in March, when the landlord's man came up the stairs with a clipboard and a face like wet cardboard. He stood in the doorway and read out figures. Tobias listened with his flowers on, purring at the rain as it ran down the glass in long orange streaks, and when the man said the word eviction the cat yawned so wide that a petal slid off his left eye and landed on the clipboard.

The man looked down at it for a long time. It was a daisy, blue as a jay's wing, with a yellow centre like a small sun. He picked it up and turned it over, and when he looked back the cat was watching him over the rim of the other petal with two round eyes, yellow as a yolk, the pupils the blue of the harbour at six in the morning. The man folded the clipboard in half. He said he would come back in a month. He did not come back in a month.

Tobias still wears the daisies. Mrs Abernethy has stopped complaining, and the lodgers have taken to leaving saucers of milk on the sill, each with a single blue petal floating on top. Some mornings the petals are fresh. Some mornings they are last year's, dried to paper, and the cat sits between them with his eyes shut and his mouth turned up at the corners, as though he has just heard a very good joke and has decided not to share it.