Colour realism tattoo of a cat's head with green eyes and blue, purple and orange fur, beside a cherry blossom branch on a forearm.

Calico cat portrait with cherry blossom

Realism · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A cat's head faces forward with bright green eyes, set against a branch with red blossoms that curves down the right side of the arm. The fur is rendered in fine, feathered strokes with strong blue, violet and orange tones, and soft shading around the muzzle and cheeks. The composition fills the frame with the cat as the focal point, and the dark background sets off the vivid colours.

Realism Botanical Forearm Cat Cherry blossom Green eye Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cat came with the house, the way the damp did, and nobody at Carrick Row had ever bought her. Mrs Pell said she was a calico because God could not settle on one colour for a cat, so He gave her all of them and let the sea wind sort them out. Every spring the cat walked the top landing with her tail up, and any lodger she stopped outside would be gone before the blossom fell.

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Mr Hal Vosper arrived in March with one trunk and a bad cough. The cat sat down across his door and would not move. Mrs Pell tried a saucer of cream, then a broom, and got nothing for either. Vosper laughed until he coughed again, said he would be gone by the plum blossom, and paid a fortnight in advance.

The plum tree in the back yard came out pink and then white, and each morning the cat sat under it with her green eyes fixed on the gate. Vosper took to walking down to the harbour wall with a pencil and a tin of tea, drawing the boats as they came in grey and went out again. His cough eased. He ate his dinners. He wrote to nobody that Mrs Pell could see, and when the post came he left it unopened on the hall table.

On the last morning of the blossom the cat was not on the landing. Mrs Pell found her on the harbour wall beside Vosper, the two of them looking out at the water as if they had agreed on something. He had signed for the lease on the boathouse that week. The petals lay on the wet cobbles like scattered coins. That afternoon Mrs Pell swept the step and found the cat already at the gate, tail curled, waiting for someone who had finally stopped trying to leave.