Colour tattoo of a purple cartoon cat with a crescent moon on its forehead, set in a pink heart frame with a jewelled crown, wings and stars, on a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Purple cat with crescent moon in heart frame

Neo-trad · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A purple cartoon cat face with large glossy eyes and a gold crescent moon on its forehead sits in the centre of a pink heart-shaped frame. Above it, a gold crown holds a pink gem, flanked by pale blue wings, with small stars and sparkles around the design. The linework is bold and dark, with soft shading and vivid colour in pink, purple, teal and gold against lightly textured skin.

Neo-trad Forearm Cat Crescent moon Crown Wing Heart Gem Star Whiskers

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit closer, the lot of you, because the tent is down and the lamps are running on the last of the paraffin, and I will not say this twice to a crowd that talks through the good bits. You want the cat? Everybody wants the cat. The Marrow Brothers Travelling Show had nine acts once, a brass band you could hear from the river, and a ringmaster with a waxed moustache that cost more than the elephant. When the money went in the wet spring, the only thing old Ambrose Tull would not sell was Pell.

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Pell was violet, the colour of plums left out in September, with a small gold crescent on her brow and eyes as wide as shillings. She travelled in a heart-shaped tin lined with pink silk, and when she sat on the rim of the round glass at the top, she could show you who was coming up the lane before the dust reached them. Ambrose's granddaughter, Ottilie, carried the tin from town to town on her hip. Every night in the caravan Pell read out the names of places that still wanted a show, and every night the list grew shorter.

At Hollin Bridge the crowd was three farmers, a sheepdog and a boy who had walked four miles to see a cat. Ottilie set out the chairs anyway. Pell looked into the glass and saw the paper stars above the ring gone grey and the gem on the crown dimmed to a bead. 'What does it show?' Ottilie asked. Pell's whiskers twitched. 'It shows what is still shining. Open the flap.'

So Ottilie opened the flap. The farmers sat, the dog lay down beside the boy, and the cat walked the length of the empty ring on a thread of silver light, all that brass and fuss reduced to a moon and a steady voice. When the show was done, the tin sat on the caravan step with its lid open, and in the dew beside it ran a line of small paw prints towards the river, each one catching the lamplight like a coin.