Fine line black cat outline tattoo with pink and blue watercolour splashes, sitting on the forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cat outline with watercolour splashes on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A black linework outline of a seated cat, viewed from the side with its tail curling down, is set against loose watercolour-style splashes of pink, purple and blue. The thin black lines are crisp and unshaded, while the colour washes are soft and irregular, extending beyond the outline. The tattoo is centred on a forearm against a plain, lightly lit background.

Fine line Forearm Cat Watercolour Splash Outline Tail

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nell's paint pots were lined up on the windowsill like soldiers, and the cat had already knocked two of them into the harbour by the time she noticed. She pinched the bridge of her nose and said, 'Not the cerulean, Tibbs,' but he only settled on the sill, folded his tail round his feet and stared at the gulls as if they owed him rent.

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The studio above the chandler's had belonged to her uncle, who painted boats nobody bought. He left her the lease, the easel with one short leg, and a cat who had never once been carried anywhere he did not choose to go. Every morning Nell mixed washes on a saucer, and every morning Tibbs walked straight through them, leaving damp violet prints across the floorboards and across the first page of the sketchbook she was saving for a commission from the lighthouse keeper's wife.

The commission was a picture of the bay at dusk. Nell had tried it nine times. Each time the sky went muddy and the water refused to be blue, and each time she came back from the kettle to find the cat sitting exactly where the horizon should be, tail curled round him like a question mark.

On the tenth morning she stopped fighting the paper. She let the pinks bleed where they wanted and the blue run out past the edges, and when the wash had dried she took her finest brush and drew only the cat, one unbroken line of black round the splashed colour. The lighthouse keeper's wife climbed the stairs that afternoon, studied the sheet for a long while, and asked whether the cat had been painted or had simply been caught there by the light.

'Caught,' Nell said, and Tibbs, on the sill, did not bother to look up.