Colour tattoo of a sitting cat silhouette filled with pink flowers and multicoloured dots, with a small blue butterfly above its raised paw, on a lower leg.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cat silhouette with flowers on a calf

Calf · Colour · Photo

A cat in a sitting pose, raised paw reaching toward a small pale blue butterfly outline. The body is filled with pink five-petalled flowers with yellow centres and scattered multicoloured dots on a white background. Black outlines define the cat and flowers, and the tattoo sits on the back of a pale lower leg against a wooden floor.

Calf Cat Flower Butterfly Dot

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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

Sit yourself down by the oven, pet, it's the only warm bit of this street before six. Now, the cat. Her name was Mrs Dimity Flitch, though nobody called her that but the postman, and she belonged to nobody, which suited her fine. She came in through the coal hatch every morning at four, shaking flour from her whiskers, and sat on the proving shelf as if she'd paid rent on it.

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Old Walter, who ran the bakery then, decided she needed a collar. He bought one from a market stall in Brixham, pink with little bells, and the cat looked at him the way a magistrate looks at a man wearing a stolen hat. So he gave up, dipped his fingers in the hundreds-and-thousands tin and flicked them across her back. She ended up speckled like a tea towel from a seaside gift shop, and she didn't mind one bit.

Then the flowers came, because the baker's daughter had been painting the shutters that spring and there was pink paint left over. Every dawn after that the cat padded out into the yard, and every dawn a pale blue butterfly drifted over the wall from the churchyard. She'd lift one paw, stretch it out, and never once catch the thing. Walter said that was the whole point. A cat that catches a butterfly has nothing left to wait for.

On the last morning the shutters came down for good, and Walter found her asleep on the empty proving shelf, one paw still raised toward the window. He never did learn what the butterfly was. He just left the tin of dots on the sill for whoever came next.