Fine line black outline tattoo of a sitting cat on the upper back of a person with dark hair, who is holding a Siamese cat over one shoulder.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cat outline tattoo on upper back

Fine line · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A person seen from behind holds a cream and brown Siamese cat with blue eyes over their shoulder. A small, simple cat outline is tattooed between the shoulder blades on the upper back, drawn in thin black linework with no shading. The green top and patterned wallpaper behind keep the composition soft and the tattoo as a small focal point.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Ida Thwaite ran a print shop on Scale Lane for thirty years, and for nine of them she shared it with a cream Siamese called Biscuit, who slept on the warm lid of the proof press and regarded customers the way a magistrate regards a parking fine. Nobody argued with Biscuit. When the landlord's man came about the back rent, he found the cat sitting squarely on the rent book with its blue eyes open, so he left the book where it was and went away owing nothing.

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The trouble began in March, when the council drew a line through the street. The shop was to come down for a car park. Ida packed the type into wooden drawers and wrapped the plates in old newspaper, and every evening Biscuit walked along the bare shelves, stepping over the gaps where the lead letters used to be, and sat in the doorway watching the rain as if waiting for someone to settle the bill.

On the last Saturday her nephew Tom arrived with a pencil and a sheet of tracing paper. He had learned to draw at night school and wanted to keep something. He traced the cat from the press lid while it slept, the curl of its tail and the tilt of its ears, and he told Ida that a drawing was only a line that had decided to stay. She pressed the paper against the brick beside the door, and he drew the cat in soft pencil, outline only, no shading, the way you would draw a creature you were fond of.

When the demolition men came on Monday they found the wall still standing, and on it a pale outline of a cat sitting upright with its tail wrapped round its feet, looking out at nothing in particular. They took the bricks down one by one and left that section for last. Ida carried Biscuit home in a cardboard box. The cat sits on her kitchen table now and has never once asked to be moved.

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