Colour tattoo of a cartoon cat with a pink bow inside a blue cupcake case, with crossed whisks and sparkles below, on a lower leg.

Cartoon cat in a cupcake with crossed whisks

Calf · Colour · Photo

The tattoo shows a white cartoon cat face with a large pink bow and black whiskers, sitting inside a light blue cupcake case. Two whisks are crossed beneath it, with a pale yellow wash behind them and small grey sparkles scattered around the design. The bold black outlines are clean and even, with soft shading in the cupcake case and the whisks, and the design is centred on a close, straight-on view of the leg.

Calf Cartoon cat Cupcake Bow Sparkle

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The whisks were the first thing Priya dropped on the tiled floor of the bakery at half past five, and the cat was the second, if you counted the cat as something you could drop, which Mrs Okafor did not. She had come in early to get the sponges out before the oven heated, and found a note taped to the cold cabinet in her own handwriting that said only: do not let the cupcake eat the whisks. Priya had written it. Priya did not remember writing it. The cat, who had apparently been living in the walk-in fridge since Tuesday, sat on the flour bin with her bow slightly crooked and watched them both as if they owed her money.

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They tried reason first. Mrs Okafor offered a saucer of cream. The cat declined, with a flick of one whisker-line that Priya found deeply personal. Then they tried the other thing, which was the sparkly rubbish that came out of the Christmas box every year, and that worked, a little, because the cat stood up on her blue paper case and walked along the counter in a slow, offended circle, shedding glitter like a cheap disco ball.

By six the bread was rising, the dough was behaving, and the cat had settled into the big mixing bowl with her chin on the rim, a pink bow the exact shade of the strawberry buttercream. Mrs Okafor said she would have to be frosted, eventually. Priya said she would not be eaten, not in this bakery, not on a Thursday. The cat blinked, slowly, as if she had heard both of them and expected better. Then she yawned, and the yellow egg-wash light from the window caught the whiskers, and nobody said anything about it for the rest of the morning.