Colour tattoo of a grey cat wearing a tartan deerstalker and holding a pipe, on the forearm of a person in a checked shirt.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Grey cat in a plaid deerstalker on a forearm

Neo-trad · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A grey cat with green eyes and pink ears wears a tartan deerstalker cap and holds a pipe in its mouth. The illustrative style uses smooth shading and bold flat colour, with soft highlights on the fur and cap. The tattoo sits on a forearm against a plain grey background, with a red and blue checked shirt sleeve visible at the edge of the frame.

Neo-trad Forearm Cat Pipe Green eye

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ring vanished between the soup and the speeches. By the time the best man reached his second joke, the caterer, the florist and the vicar's nephew had all been blamed in turn. Inspector Quill, who had slept under the top table since noon with one ear turned towards the proceedings, opened a single green eye and sighed. Nobody at the Lantern Hall ever thought to ask a cat.

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He dropped down, collar bell silent, and worked along the trestles like a man checking a sum. Beneath the empty velvet cushion lay a crumb of cherry tobacco. On the carpet by the side door was a neat half-moon of wet mud, the shape of a polished brogue. And when Lionel Ashby leaned over to refill his glass, Quill caught the sweet, smoky reek of a pipe that nobody at the wedding had seen him light.

In the lemon-scented garden behind the marquee, Quill sat on a stone urn and waited. Lionel came out loosening his tie, laughed when he saw the cat, then stopped laughing, because the cat was staring at his waistcoat pocket with the patience of a magistrate. "You can't prove a thing," Lionel said. Quill said nothing. He had never needed to. The bride's sister arrived, flushed from dancing, and the groom's mother began asking pointed questions about cushions, and the pocket gave up its small gold circle with a sound like a coin dropped down a well. "It was my grandmother's," Lionel muttered. "He promised it to me."

The bride was not angry. She took the ring, looked down at the grey cat sitting neatly on the gravel, and declared it the finest wedding present she had ever received. This was not strictly true, since the cat had only wanted his supper, but Quill let her believe it. He trotted back to the top table, curled up beneath the linen, and let the fiddles start up again.