Close photo of a small black fine-line tattoo of a cat's face with closed eyes, nose and whiskers on a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Minimalist cat whiskers on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo of a cat face shows two closed-eye arcs, a tiny nose and fine whiskers drawn in black ink. The linework is thin and even with no shading, and the design sits in the centre of the frame against pale skin. The background is softly out of focus, showing a patterned sleeve and long hair.

Fine line Forearm Cat Whiskers Cat face Nose

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cat would not leave the tiller, so Ada Fenn stopped asking him and let the narrowboat drift on the slack water below Hanwell with its bow nosing at the reeds. Ginger, the lock keeper's boy called him, but the old bargees had a better name for him, the Admiral, because he sat up there with his eyes half shut, watching the towpath as though it belonged to him.

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Ada had bought the boat from a widower in Brentford who swore the cat came with it, like the brass horn and the kettle with the bent spout. She didn't believe him until the morning the engine coughed and died under Southall bridge, and she sat in the cabin with a tin of cold beans, wondering who she could ring. The cat walked the length of the gunwale, stepped over the coil of rope, and settled on the step with his tail wrapped round his paws. Then he closed his eyes, slowly, the way he did when he was pleased with himself.

Three boats came up behind them that afternoon, then a fourth, and a man in a flat cap towing a hire boat with a crying child in the bow. Each time Ada reached for the pole, the Admiral opened one eye and shut it again, and each time the water seemed to carry them somewhere useful. She never learned whether it was luck or the cat. After a while she stopped minding which.

By dusk they were tied up below the old mill, the stove lit and the Admiral curled on the cushion, his whiskers twitching at nothing. Ada wrote a card to the widower, thanking him for the horn and the kettle and the cat, and signed it with a small drawing: two curved lines for the closed eyes, a tiny nose, and six strokes of whisker. It looked exactly like him, which she thought was the best thing she had ever drawn.