Realistic grey cat face tattoo with blue eyes on the back of a neck, shaded in black and grey with touches of blue.

Grey cat face tattoo on the neck

Realism · Neck · Mixed · Photo

A realistic portrait of a grey cat's face, viewed head on with its eyes looking forward. The fur is built up with soft black and grey shading, and the eyes are filled with pale blue ink. The design sits centred on the back of the neck, with a paw visible at the lower left edge.

Realism Neck Cat Cat face Blue eye Fur Portrait

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Snow had shut the Cold Fell road by noon, and by supper the only guests left at the Hollin Inn were a carrier, two surveyors who argued over their maps, and Mrs Ferrier's grey cat, Pell, who had decided the hearth belonged to him. Mrs Ferrier was counting candles in the scullery when she noticed the cat was no longer by the fire. He sat at the foot of the cellar stairs instead, one paw lifted, staring at nothing she could see.

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Her son Tam had gone down for the last cask an hour before and not come back up. She called into the dark and heard only the drip of the tap. The carrier said the cellar had a second way out onto the old drovers' track, bricked up in his grandfather's day, and that Tam had always been curious about it. Pell did not move. His eyes, pale as the ice on the water butt, caught the lamplight and held it steady, the way they did when the mice were behind the wainscot.

She took the lamp down herself. Halfway, cold came up the stairs to meet her, clean and sharp as a blade, and at the bottom she found a ragged square of night where the bricks had been pulled loose. Tam was on his knees beside it, knuckles torn, laughing at himself for being stuck. "The cat knew," he said. "He was sat right there when I came down, looking at this wall like it owed him money."

Pell came down the last stair with his tail straight up, slipped through the gap, and sat on the frozen track with his back to them. When the others reached him he trotted ahead, stopping every few yards to look round, until the lantern found the lights of the road below. By the time they looked back, the snow had already filled their prints, and the cellar wall was whole again. Upstairs, on the hearth, Pell was curled tight with his nose under his tail, as if he had never left it.