Black ink line drawing of a sitting cat looking upwards, with whisker strokes and a curled tail, in a minimal brush style.

Sitting cat line drawing

Black and grey · Flash

The image shows a single cat seated in profile with its head raised and turned upwards, drawn as one continuous black outline with no interior shading. The strokes vary in thickness and taper at their ends, giving a loose, brushed quality. The cat is set on a plain white background, with the tail curling at the lower left and three whisker lines to the left of the head.

Cat Sitting cat Whiskers Tail Line drawing

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody owned the cat on Harlow's Travelling Fair. It sat on the top step of the caravan with the striped awning, tail curled round its feet like a question mark somebody had lost interest in, and it looked up at the Big Wheel the way the rest of us looked at the weather. Old Tom Harlow said it had walked off a lorry in Lowestoft the summer he bought the first generator. He fed it fish heads from the chip van and never once tried to pick it up.

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I was seventeen that season, working the coconut shy and sleeping in the back of the ticket booth. The cat slept on my coat when it rained. I learned its moods the way you learn a boss: the flattened ears when the generator coughed, the slow blink when the brass band started, the lift of the chin whenever the Wheel's lights came on at dusk, as if someone very high up had called its name.

Tom died in February, in the winter quarters outside Ely. We took the fair out anyway, because that is what fairs do, and in the first week we pulled into a field outside Kettering with the rain coming sideways. When the lorries were loaded I went to fetch the cat and found it on the top step, not moving, its head tipped back toward a sky where the Wheel should have been. I picked it up. It did not struggle, which frightened me more than anything.

We drove on without it that night. I went back at dawn and found it sitting upright on the flattened grass, exactly as it sat on the caravan step, its eyes fixed on nothing but grey cloud. I understood then that it was waiting for the lights. So I sat down beside it, and we looked up together until the sun came over the hedge and showed us an empty field.