Realism tattoo of a grey and white cat with blue eyes inside a black scrolled ornamental frame on the upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Grey cat portrait in scrollwork frame on upper arm

Realism · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

A detailed portrait of a long-haired grey and white cat looks out from within a black ornamental scrollwork frame with leafy curls. The cat is rendered with soft grey shading, fine whisker detail and pale blue eyes, while the frame has bold black and grey shading that gives it depth. The tattoo fills most of the frame of the photo against a plain skin background.

Realism Upper arm Cat Scrollwork Frame Ornament Blue eye

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The painter came across the causeway on the last low tide of September with a crate of oils on his back and a black iron frame under one arm, and Agnes Dunmore met him at the cottage door with a face that said the cat would not be sitting. Tobias had kept the lamp room free of gulls for eleven years. He had no interest in being looked at.

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The painter set his easel up on the gallery rail and waited. Tobias sat at the far end with his tail wrapped round his feet and his eyes narrowed to the colour of the sea in February, and he did not move for three evenings. On the fourth, the painter stopped trying to catch the cat's attention and painted the grey light coming off the water instead, the salt dried white on the glass, the lantern's shadow wheeling across the stone. When Tobias finally turned his head, it was to watch a gannet fold itself into the swell, and the painter caught that too.

They hung the finished piece above the kitchen range inside a frame of scrolled iron that had once guarded a chapel gate. Agnes said it made the cat look like a bishop. Tobias paid it no mind until the night the storm came in off the Farne, the lamp failed at dusk, and Agnes climbed the stairs by torchlight calling his name.

She found him in the gallery, sitting exactly where the painter had sat, facing the dark where the light should have been. She got the wick lit with shaking hands, and the beam swung out over the water. When she came back down, the cat followed her and stopped beneath the portrait to look up, the same look, the same narrowed blue. She poured milk into a saucer and left him there, the two of them watching the same storm from either side of the glass.