Fine line black cat face tattoo on the inside of a wrist, with two triangle ears, dot eyes, a triangular nose and whiskers.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Minimal cat face on the inside wrist

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A minimal cat face is drawn in thin black lines on the inside of a wrist. Two open V-shaped ears sit above two small dot eyes, with a filled triangle nose and three whiskers on each side. The shading is flat solid black with no greys, and the photograph is taken straight on against a plain skin background.

Fine line Other Cat Cat face Whiskers Ear Nose

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The fair came to Hollin Marsh the week the big wheel went off to be mended, so the travellers had little to do but wait and mind the generators. Old Tamsin Brand kept a grey cat called Nib under the ghost train. Nobody could say where it had come from, only that it turned up the year the Brands lost their piebald mare, and it had never once asked to be fed.

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Nib had a face like a folded note: two sharp ears standing open, a pair of dots for eyes, a black triangle for a nose, and three whiskers either side that ran out past the cheeks as if they had somewhere to be. Tamsin said it was the cat that kept the fair honest. When the dodgems jammed in the rain, Nib sat on the control box and the power came back. When a child wandered past the hook-a-duck stall, Nib walked ahead of the search with its tail straight up and stopped at the edge of the reed beds, and there the child would be, sitting in the wet with a stick in each hand.

The summer Dell Harker parked his candy floss van on the cat's stretch of grass by the generator shed, Tamsin found Nib waiting on the fuel drum at dusk, its ears gone flat. She told the cat not this year, though she was talking mostly to herself. Nib stood, stretched, and walked off towards the river without looking back. Dell's van would not start the next morning, and by the end of the week he had packed up his spun sugar and gone, and the field was quiet.

When the fair came back the following spring, the gap in the reeds had grown over. Tamsin sat on the bottom step of her caravan with a saucer of milk she never poured, and the wheel turned against a sky the colour of pewter. Somewhere under the ghost train a grey cat was keeping watch, and the children who strayed knew to stay near the lights.