Back view of a fine line black outline tattoo of a cat on the back of a woman's neck, with a tabby cat resting on her shoulder.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cat outline tattoo on the back of the neck

Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

A small black fine line tattoo of a sitting cat outline sits on the back of a woman's neck, below an updo with hair clips. The linework is thin and unshaded, with no added colour or fill. A tabby cat rests against her left shoulder beside the tattoo, and the soft, warm-toned background fills the frame.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cook had cut the fish into three when Mags noticed the grey tabby was missing from his place by the bread bin. Rain drummed on the galley hatch and the Persistence rolled heavily on the swell, so the pans swung on their hooks like a row of pendulums. She wiped her hands on her apron and called his name the way she had for eleven years, low and flat, as if he had only stepped out for air.

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He had not stepped out for air. She found him on the coil of hawser beside the winch, sitting bolt upright with his tail wrapped neatly over his paws, facing the fog that lay across the bow like wet muslin. He did not look round when she spoke. Old Tuck, the bosun, said a cat sat that way when someone was out on the water and coming home, and Mags had long since stopped arguing with Tuck about anything to do with weather.

Then a light showed, low and yellow, bobbing where no light should be. She heard oars before she saw the boat, then the second mate's voice, hoarse and cursing, calling for a line. Mags ran to the rail. The cat leapt from the hawser, landed on her shoulder with his claws working through the wool of her jumper, and stayed there, purring like a kettle coming to the boil, while the men hauled the dinghy alongside.

By the time the mate was wrapped in a blanket by the stove, the fog had thinned enough to show a single star. Mags put the kettle on and fed the tabby a sliver of the cod she had been saving for the captain's supper. He ate it slowly, with the calm of a cat who had always known how the night would end.

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