Colour tattoo of an orange tabby cat hanging from a red and white harlequin hot air balloon, with grey clouds and dotted rain, on a lower leg.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cat hanging from a hot air balloon

Traditional · Calf · Colour · Photo

A tabby cat dangles by its paws from a hot air balloon with red and cream diamond panels, its ropes drawn as thin black lines. Grey clouds sit at the top corners, with dotted lines suggesting rain falling beneath them. Bold black outlines define the shapes, with solid red, orange and grey shading on the balloon, cat and clouds against plain skin.

Traditional Calf Hot air balloon Cat Cloud Rain

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Nell,

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You will not believe what Mr Pargeter did at the Lyceum on Saturday. He tied a harlequin balloon to the chandelier hook above the floor, sat his tabby Marmite in the basket with a ribbon of tinsel, and let go of the cord while the band was still playing the Pride of Erin. The whole room went up with a sigh like a bellows, and I swear the cat looked more offended by the lack of rain than by the height.

Nobody had told the cat it was a performance. Pargeter swore the balloon was only for the children's waltz, but the sandbag slipped and the basket caught a fringe of lamplight and up it went, past the gallery where the ladies in their green silk were holding their fans like shields. Water had been dripping through the ceiling all evening from the leak over the cloakroom, so the drops fell past the rope in fine dark dots, and the old doorman said they were the same drops that had soaked his cap in March.

Here is the part I want you to tell Mother. Marmite did not fall. She hung by her front paws from the ropes, very dignified, back legs trailing like a gentleman's cane, and when the band reached the last chord she looked down at us all and yawned. Then the cord frayed through and she dropped onto the piano lid, landed on all four feet, and walked straight out through the stage door as if she had booked the evening.

Pargeter has been trying to coax her back since Sunday. She is sitting on his bed now, and he says she has not once looked sorry.

Write back soon, and bring the good needles when you come.

Yours, Ada