Black and grey realism tattoo of a kitten face wearing a beaded jewelled necklace, covering the back of a hand.

Cat face with jewelled necklace on the hand

Realism · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A kitten's face with large round eyes and detailed whiskers is tattooed across the back of the hand, with a beaded necklace of drop-shaped pendants draped over its head and a jewelled pendant hanging towards the fingers. The shading is smooth and soft, with fine highlights on the fur, eyes and beads, and the tattoo continues up the wrist into darker, feathery shading. The image is in black and grey against a plain olive background.

Realism Hand Cat Kitten Necklace Jewellery Pendant Bead Whiskers Gemstone

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mind the step, it's iced over, and don't let the stove go down before I've finished, for it's a long night and the wind has come round to the north. Your grandfather would have sent you out to the byre for less. Now then. The farm at Cold Harbour had a barn cat called Pell, who was all eyes and no sense, and who had been born in the hay the week the river froze.

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Nan Ysolde kept her mother's jet beads in a tin under the parlour clock. Forty-one of them, black as the inside of a boot, strung on silk with six drop pendants that swung when you breathed near them. Nobody wore them. Nobody had been to a wedding since the war. But one February morning the tin lay open and the beads were gone, and Pell sat on the sill with a look of the most perfect innocence.

Ysolde took a lantern out to the barn. She found the cat draped in the beads, the chain looped over its head and down past its whiskers, one great pendant hanging like a bell over the feed bin. Pell did not run. It looked at her with those round eyes as if she were the one who had come in uninvited. And she, who had buried a husband and two sons in that churchyard, sat down on an upturned bucket and laughed until the lantern shook.

She left the beads where they were. All through the hard weeks Pell wore them, and the lambs came, and the thaw rushed down the valley in brown water. When at last she emptied the tin to clean it, she found one bead missing. Pell had lost it somewhere in the hay, and she never found it, and she said that was a fair price for a cat with ideas above its station.