Matching colour tattoos of sphynx cat heads with crystals above, one in green and blue and one in orange and red, on two forearms.

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Matching sphynx cat tattoos on forearms

Neo-trad · Forearm · Colour · Photo

Two matching tattoos show sphynx cat heads with large round eyes, wrinkled skin and patterned ears, each with a faceted crystal above the head. The left cat is rendered in greens and blues and the right in oranges and reds, with soft watercolour-like shading and bold black outlines. The two designs sit side by side on the forearms against a pale background.

Neo-trad Forearm Cat Sphynx cat Crystal Gem Pattern Matching

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The two cats came down from the hills in the week the salt pans cracked, one green as a bottle held to the light, the other the colour of a kiln at dusk. Nobody in Porthgarrow knew whose they were. Mrs Tregenna swore they had been sold at Bodmin market for a single crown and a jar of honey, and Ezra Pascoe, who mended the pier nets, said they had walked over the causeway at low tide without wetting a paw, which he took as a bad sign for the herring.

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The crystals were the thing people talked about. Each cat wore one above its head like a lamp that had forgotten to be lit, faceted and pale, and when the fishing boats went out the green stone glowed on the water while the orange one threw little sparks onto the harbour wall. Children stopped throwing pebbles. The schoolmaster, who believed in nothing he could not measure, measured the sparks and wrote down that they fell in threes.

On the night of the great storm the green cat sat on the lighthouse steps and would not come in, staring out past the breakwater with its wide, unblinking eyes. The orange one went down to the slipway and sat at the edge of the tide, patterned ears turned towards the sea, as if listening for a particular boat. At dawn both were dry. The Pascoe boy's skiff was in the cove, its oars neatly laid across the thwarts, and nobody ever learned how it had come home without him or without anyone at all.

They still sit by the harbour in the summer, the two of them, and the fishermen touch their hats when they pass. Ask Mrs Tregenna and she will tell you the cats are only waiting for the tide to turn, and that a town should always keep something on the quay that has no intention of leaving.