Black and grey temporary tattoo of a plump cat lying on its back, shown on its white backing inside a clear plastic sleeve with a green card reading Temporary Tattoo.

Plump cat temporary tattoo in packet

Black and grey · Flash

A square temporary tattoo sticker sits in a clear plastic sleeve behind a green card labelled Temporary Tattoo. The design shows a chubby cat lying on its back with its paws raised, drawn in sketchy outline with light brown-grey shading on the body and legs. The plain white background and even lighting keep the focus on the design.

Cat Temporary tattoo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mind the sawdust, it gets in the bread. You want the story of the Pemberton Travelling Circus, and everyone wants the lion, but the lion was never what kept us fed. That was Marmalade. By the autumn of 1961 we had one lion left, a moth-eaten old thing called Duke, two clowns who weren't speaking, and a grey tabby the size of a Sunday joint who had never been taught a single trick. She simply lay down wherever the crowd was thickest and waited to be fed.

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Ezra Pemberton counted the takings every night on an upturned crate by the ticket hatch, and every night the sum came out smaller. Marmalade slept on the ticket box, the only warm place left in the wagon, and when he shifted her she rolled onto her back in protest, four paws in the air like a bad-tempered beetle. Ezra had made up his mind to sell the big top to a man in Bolton who dealt in scrap.

The last night was wet and nearly empty, forty people in a field and one lamp hung from the tent pole. Halfway through Lorna's act the rope slipped. Nobody was hurt, but the crowd went still the way crowds do when they expect bad news. Marmalade chose that moment to waddle out from under the bleachers, flop down in the wet straw beneath the lamp and roll over. Her belly was round as a drum and she gazed at the sky with complete contentment. A boy in a yellow anorak laughed first, then everyone did, and they came down from the stands with pennies in their fists to rub her stomach.

That paid for diesel to get us home, and the next spring Ezra bought the tent back from the scrap man with the rest. He never explained the deal to anyone. The tin is still under his coat, and whenever the crowds thin out, someone puts Marmalade on her back in the middle of the ring, and the people come back to see why.