Small fine line black tattoo of a cat's nose and whiskers on the side of a finger, with pink painted nails visible.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cat whiskers tattoo on a finger

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo of a cat's nose and whiskers sits across the side of a finger on a pale hand resting on dark knitted fabric. The linework is thin and black, with a small filled nose, dotted detail and three whiskers extending on each side. The composition is a close, slightly angled view of the hand, with the tattoo centred on the finger and the pink nails framing the top and bottom of the frame.

Fine line Hand Cat Whiskers Cat face

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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 cat from Hollin Mill would not be kept out of the wedding, though the vicar had shut the church door twice. It sat on the lych gate with its tail wrapped round its feet and watched the lane until the bride came up it in her mother's boots, two sizes too big and stuffed with wool.

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The ring was the trouble. Osric Hale had bought it from a tinker at Tarn Bottom for a shilling and a promise, and the promise was that the stone would show the true face of whoever wore it. When the vicar lifted the band to slide it on, the stone gave back nothing but a grey smudge. Maud laughed and held her hand out anyway, and the cat dropped from the gate, crossed the flagstones without a sound, and pressed its face against her finger as if it had always meant to.

The stone went clear. Nobody in the village could say what it had shown, because Osric would only say he saw a fat cheese on the altar and a great deal of cream. Where the whiskers had touched her skin, three thin lines of ink stayed behind, with a small nose and a dot of dark at its tip, and they would not wash away in the river or rub off in the wash tub.

Maud wore the ring for fifty years. The cat died in the mill loft one winter that nobody marked. On the morning after the burial, Maud found her finger warm, and the whiskers had faded to the colour of old pencil, as though the cat had finally settled down to sleep.