Two matching traditional tattoos on the tops of bare feet, each showing a maneki-neko lucky cat, one styled as R2-D2 and the other as Darth Vader.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lucky cats as R2-D2 and Darth Vader

Traditional · Other · Mixed · Photo

The image shows two matching tattoos of maneki-neko lucky cats on the tops of bare feet, with painted dark red toenails. The left cat is drawn as R2-D2 in blue and grey, and the right cat is drawn as Darth Vader in black and grey, both with red ears and yellow paws. The bold black outlines and flat fills give the pair a traditional look, shown against a beige carpet.

Traditional Other Lucky cat Maneki-neko R2-d2 Darth vader Star wars Cat

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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

Tell you the thing about Dougie Pruett's lucky cats, and you'll stop your fidgeting. They sat on the sill of his shop at the bottom of Hollin Row for thirty years, one blue and grey like a tin of custard powder, round in the belly, the other black with a face like a visor and a breath you could hear across the street. Maneki-neko, the old women called them, beckoning cats, paws up to bring the luck in. Dougie's wife painted the ears red herself and the paws yellow, because she said a cat with no colour in its paws would never get anything done.

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The blue one had a chirrup in him. Every time the cage came up from the Eighth Level with the night shift black to the eyebrows, the blue cat gave a little whistle and a bleep, and the children swore it was counting the men. The black one said nothing. He only lifted his arm and held it there, the way the deputies held their lamps up at the pit gate, steady, not wanting anything back.

Then came the winter the roof fell in at the far heading and eleven men stayed under. Dougie sat up with the wireless and the blue cat between his knees, turning it over and over, and somewhere after four it bleeped, once, twice, and would not stop. He said it was nonsense. Nobody argued. Come morning the black cat had been moved from the sill to the mantelpiece above the fire, facing the door, arm raised, as if somebody had decided who would be doing the beckoning now. Eleven came up in the end, blackened and cursing, and the cats stayed exactly where they were.