Realistic black and grey tattoo of a Siamese cat's head with bright blue eyes and whiskers, on the inner forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Realistic Siamese cat head on a forearm

Realism · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A detailed portrait of a cat's head, shown in profile and turned slightly to the left, with pointed ears, whiskers and pale muzzle shading. The fur is rendered with soft, layered grey and black shading and fine strokes, with highlights on the eyes and nose. Apart from the vivid blue eyes, the tattoo is in greyscale, and it sits on smooth skin against a dark background.

Realism Forearm Cat Blue eye Whiskers Animal portrait

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Now sit yourselves down and hush, the lot of you, because the bread isn't going anywhere and neither am I. You all want to hear about the ring. Everybody in Porthgwidden wants to hear about the ring. It was the spring the chapel roof leaked on the bride's mother, and Jack Tremayne stood at the altar with his hair slicked flat and his hands shaking like a boy with a bad tooth.

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The cat was called Smoke. She belonged to Sarah's grandmother, and she was grey as a wet slate, black at the ears and tail, with a pale face like candle wax and eyes so blue they looked lit from inside. She sat on the windowsill of the hall all through the speeches, not blinking once, watching the pantry door as if it owed her money.

When the ring went missing, the whole room turned on Dickon Vosper, the best man, who had been drinking since the vows. He swore on his mother's grave he'd never touched it. Old Mrs Quick got down on her knees with a torch, and it was Smoke who led the way, padding past the trestle tables with her tail held high, straight to the cream jug on the dresser. There, folded in a wad of lace napkin, was the ring, still warm from a cat's mouth.

So that's why the cream jug lives on the top shelf now, and why the Tremaynes have never let a cat near a wedding since. Smoke died fat and contented at nineteen, and I'm told she still looks at anyone who lies to her the way she looked at that pantry door. Mind your manners tonight, my loves. Those blue eyes never forget a thing.