Realistic grey shaded tattoo of a cat's face with green eyes and the script word Emmett beneath, on a person's upper back.

Realistic cat portrait with script name on upper back

Realism · Back · Mixed · Photo

A realistic tattoo of a cat's face, with a striped grey tabby pattern, whiskers and a pale outline around the ears, is shown on the upper back. The shading is soft and greyscale, with the eyes picked out in green, and the script word Emmett sits below the chin. The composition is centred and close, with the tattoo filling most of the frame against plain skin.

Realism Back Cat Cat face Pet portrait Script Green eye Whiskers

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Harriet had given up on the lost property ledger the moment the 6.40 pulled out, and the cat was still sitting on the parcels shelf, watching her with those green eyes as if she owed him an explanation. Emmett had arrived in October, a striped grey tabby who walked into the booking hall through the propped door and never found his way back out. Nobody claimed him. Porter Dennis said he had belonged to a signalman who retired to Whitby, and that the cat had waited on the platform for three weeks before anyone thought to feed him.

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Harriet found it easier to talk to him than to the commuters. He listened. He had opinions about the tea trolley and none whatsoever about timetables. On Thursdays he rode the milk churns down to the sidings and came back with soot on his whiskers, looking pleased with himself, the way men do after a pint they shouldn't have had.

The notice had gone up on Friday. The station would close at the end of the month, and the booking hall would become a coffee place with reclaimed oak tables. Nobody had said what would become of the cat. Harriet had decided that herself, and she had not yet told him.

On the last evening she bought a ticket at the empty window, folded a cardboard box flat under her arm, and lifted him in. "One to Leeds," she told the clerk, "and one for the passenger." The clerk, who had been slipping him sardines for a month, didn't argue. Emmett settled into the box with the air of someone who had paid for the best seat, and the train pulled out past the lit signal box, green eyes narrowing against the glass.