Traditional-style tattoo on a forearm of a tabby kitten with blue eyes inside a gold ornate frame, with a red rose and orange flowers below.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Kitten in ornate frame with rose on forearm

Traditional · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A tabby kitten with pale blue eyes sits centred inside a gold ornate oval frame with a green stone at the top. A large red rose with dark green leaves sits at the bottom, with two orange flowers on either side. The kitten uses soft grey shading with bold black outlines, while the frame, rose and flowers use solid, saturated colour.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit yourself down on that crate and mind the grease. You'll have heard the one about the cat that rode the Carrowby mail for three winters? Rubbish, the lot of it. This is the true story, and it starts with a parcel left on the bench by a woman in a green coat who got off the 4.10 from Lessing Bridge and never came back for it.

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Old Ned Fulcher kept it behind the ticket office, propped against a sack of coal dust. Nobody touched the brown paper for six weeks. When Ned finally tore it open, there was a painted oval in a gold frame, the leaf gone dull at the corners, and inside it a tabby kitten with eyes the colour of the sea off Scarborough, staring out as if it had just been told off. Somebody had tucked a rose under the glass, pressed flat and red as a stop lamp.

The clerk wanted it sent to the lost property depot in Leeds. Ned said no. He hung it on the nail above the kettle, and the next morning the kitten was gazing at the signal box instead of at him. Every morning after that it looked at a different part of the yard, and the porters swore it knew which trains would run late. Ned swore it too, and he never swore about anything else.

The woman came back in April, off the same train. She stood on the platform a long while, then asked what the kitten was called. Ned told her he didn't know. She said, "Biscuit," and he saw in her face that it had been her cat, lost years before, and that she'd been carrying its picture across England to find someone who would look after it. He handed it over. She looked at the rose, smiled, and walked out through the barrier, and that evening the kettle boiled dry for the first time in a year.

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