Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Cat curled into a heart on the wrist
Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A thin black outline of a cat with closed eyes forms the shape of a heart, with its striped tail curling up on the right. The linework is clean and even, with the tail filled in solid black and the rest left as an open outline on pale skin. The tattoo sits centrally on the inner wrist against a dark background.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Maud found Mistral in the wardrobe trunk on the Tuesday morning, curled among the spangled leotards with her eyes shut and her striped tail looped round her body until the whole cat made a heart. Maud had counted the takings three nights running and the figures had not changed. Three tents had shrunk to one, and that one had a patch of tarpaulin over a hole where the rain kept getting in.
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Down at the ring, Dessie the strongman was taking down the trapeze rigging with a spanner in each fist. "Mr Dacre wants the big top sold by Friday," he said. "Says the horses are gone, the lion's gone, and a cat isn't a turn." Maud said nothing. Mistral had slept in the sawdust every afternoon since the autumn, refusing to be moved, and the crowds had always stopped to watch her yawn on the high wire.
That evening the last house was thin, thirty people scattered over a thousand empty seats. Maud stood in the wings with the cat in her arms, heavier than she looked, and carried her out under the single working spot. Mistral did not perform. She lay down in the sawdust, tucked her paws beneath her and drew her tail round until her outline was a heart of black stripes against pale dust. Nobody clapped, but a boy in the front row said "oh" very quietly, and the sound climbed up into the canvas and stayed there.
Mr Dacre sold the bay the following spring. Maud kept the trunk, and the leotards, and the cat. Every night after that Mistral curled the same way on the end of Maud's bed, tail round, eyes closed, as though the ring had only ever been a place to practise.
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