Two matching fine line cat tattoos in black ink on the backs of two hands pressed together, one cat outlined and one with tabby stripes.

Matching cat tattoos on the backs of hands

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Two hands are pressed together, each showing a small cat tattoo in black ink. The cat on the left is drawn with a simple outline and little shading, while the cat on the right has tabby stripes and light shading along its body and tail. The pair sit side by side on the back of the hands against a pale grey pavement.

Fine line Hand Cat Matching pair

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The windfalls under the Discovery had been going to wasp and vinegar for a week when Pell finally came down off the wall to see what the fuss was. I was already there, lying in the grass with my stripes gone warm, pretending I had not been waiting since breakfast.

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Pell was the pale one, the cat nobody bothered to shade in, though she would argue that her plainness was a choice. She had come over the fence from the Hadleys' place the summer the pickers left, thin as a rake handle, and she ate the first apple I pushed towards her with the seriousness of a magistrate. We did not discuss what we were. We sat on the lower branch and watched the lorries go up the lane with crates that smelled of cider and money.

In September the orchard was sold to a firm from Kent that meant to pull the old trees out and plant something tidy in rows. Pell said we should leave before the saws came. I said cats do not go anywhere without a dish, and she said that was exactly why we should go. We walked the boundary wall one last evening, the sun low, the grass gone the colour of toast, and I stopped where the Discovery's roots had broken the flags.

Pell did not say goodbye. She sat down beside me, close enough that our flanks touched, the way she always did when she wanted the warm half of the wall. The lorries came the next morning. We were two miles down the valley by then, on a bank above a different stream, and the first thing Pell did was wash her face and the second was lean on me, pale against stripe, as if we had been drawn that way from the start.