Two wrists side by side, one with a shaded grey realistic cat head tattoo and the other with a lighter fine line cat head, both in black ink.

Cat head tattoos on two wrists

Realism · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two pale wrists are pressed together against a plain white background, each carrying a small cat head tattoo. The left cat is rendered in soft, layered grey shading that gives the fur texture and depth, while the right cat uses lighter, sketchier outlines with minimal shading. Both designs use black ink and grey tones with no colour, and the simple white backdrop keeps the focus on the tattoos.

Realism Fine line Forearm Cat Cat head Pet portrait Animal

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The fair came over the hill at Michaelmas with two caravans, a steam organ that wheezed on every third note, and a woman called Mrs Ottery who drew cat portraits for threepence. Nobody in Dunmere had paid for a picture of a cat before. When the blacksmith's boy carried in his mother's grey tom, she sat him on the trestle and made him wait.

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She worked with a stick of charcoal and a pot of lamp-black, laying the fur in soft grey layers until the cat seemed to look up from the paper as if someone had called its name. The boy's father paid a shilling and swore it was the spit of the beast. The tom, who had not been consulted, went home and sat on the same doorstep for a week in protest.

The next morning a miller's girl arrived with her own cat, a pale creature with a torn ear, and asked for it quick. Mrs Ottery had no patience for quick. She sketched the head in a handful of light lines and left the eyes unshaded. "You haven't finished it," the girl said. "No," said Mrs Ottery, packing her charcoal. "You'll want to see what it does next, and I'd rather you looked for it yourself."

The fair left the valley at dusk, and nobody in Dunmere saw Mrs Ottery again. Years later the blacksmith's boy, grown and gone to sea, found his mother's drawer and in it the grey portrait, folded soft at the corners. Beside it lay the miller's girl's cat, its eyes still empty, and he swore the pale creature had turned its head to watch him.