Shaded grey cartoon cat with closed eyes and raised paws, with three grey butterflies above it and a partly visible coloured flower tattoo at the top left, on skin.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Grey cartoon cat with butterflies

Mixed · Photo

A cartoon cat with closed eyes, a small smiling mouth and raised paws sits in the centre, with three butterflies drifting above its head. The cat is outlined in black and shaded in smooth greys, with pink tones on its belly and paw pads. A partly visible multicoloured flower tattoo sits at the top left, and the photograph is taken close up on plain skin.

Cat Butterfly Flower

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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

Mind the step, it's loose, same as everything else in Bramley Drift since the fire. Now, where was I? Ah yes, the grey cat. Nobody owned her. She came up from the old coke ovens the winter the lamps went out, thin as a poker, and she sat on the wall of the pit yard as if someone had paid her to watch it.

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The lads called her Smudge on account of the soot. Old Tom Ridley shared his bread crust with her and tipped her the last of his pilchards from the lunch tin. Every morning when the whistle blew, she'd shut her eyes, lift her two front paws and hold them up like a man who's been told the seam is dry. Hopeful, and not quite believing it.

That spring the slag heap went soft with colour, cabbage whites and something blue that nobody could name. Three of them took to circling her head each morning, as if they'd heard a rumour. The children swore she was calling them down from the winding gear. Tom said she was only waiting for the day shift to come up.

The spring the cage stuck four hundred feet down, the wives stood at the gate all night with their shawls pulled tight. Smudge walked the wall once, slow, and sat under the lamp with her paws raised. Near dawn the butterflies came drifting over the headgear, pale in the grey light, and settled on the rail above her. Then the cage rang, and the men came up, every one of them, blinking like owls. You can still see her on that wall if you're up before the whistle. Don't try to stroke her. She's only ever been waiting for you to come home.