Colour tattoo of a grey cat's head with blue eyes and a red collar on the forearm, drawn in a traditional style with bold black outlines and hatching.

Grey cat head with red collar on forearm

Traditional · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A three-quarter view of a cat's head turned to the right, with pointed ears, blue eyes and a pale nose. The fur is built up with black hatched linework and grey shading, and the blue, orange and red accents are applied within bold outlines. The composition is centred on the cat, with a red collar and tie below the head, photographed against a dark background.

Traditional Neo-trad Forearm Cat Cat head Collar Tie

Find an artist for this

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 down, the lot of you, and mind the nets. You'll not hear this told in the Ship Inn with the wireless on. Old Tam Gilchrist's grey cat came aboard the Morag Rose the winter her hull was sold out from under her, a bit of smoke with a red ribbon round its neck that some lass in Peterhead had tied on for luck and then forgotten.

Keep reading

The cat would not go ashore. Every harbour master from Fraserburgh to Wick tried to shift it, and every time it was back on the coiled warp by morning, sitting bolt upright with its ears to the wind and its blue eyes fixed on the open water to the east. Tam swore it was counting boats. The skipper swore it was waiting for a man. Both were right, as it turned out, but neither of them guessed which man.

In the February of the great gale the Morag Rose went out with nine men and came home with six. The cat was on the wheelhouse step when the lights came in through the murk, and it stood up on its toes and would not come down until the last of the crew had stepped onto the quay. Tam's boy was the seventh, and he came in an hour behind the rest, half drowned, and the first thing he asked for was the cat.

Tam's boy never went to sea again. He carried the cat up the hill to his mother's kitchen, and it sat in her window every evening after that, face turned to the harbour, the red tie bright against the glass, watching the water the way it had watched the boats go out.