Four line drawings of sitting cats on yellowish tracing paper and white paper, with stippled dot shading on the tails and legs, laid out on a wooden table.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sitting cat line drawings on paper

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

The image shows several drawings of a sitting cat in black linework, with two designs on yellowish tracing paper and two on white paper. The outlines are clean and mostly unbroken, with angular blocked sections across the bodies and stippled dot shading gathering on the tails, chests and lower legs. The sheets are placed on a pale surface with a dark wooden table along the bottom edge.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The third carbon copy was already softer than the first, so Mrs Halloran pinned the tracing paper to the kitchen window and told me to stop fussing over the tail. It was snowing hard over Skelder Cross and the inn had been shut since Boxing Day, which left the two of us, a kettle that wouldn't stop ticking, and the cat on the sill who had not moved in an hour.

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She had taught me to see the cat as blocks. The shoulder was a square you could balance a cup on, the haunch a slanted box, the belly one unbroken line you were not allowed to lift the nib from. "Cats are only furniture that breathes," she said, and pressed a pencil into my hand. I drew the shading in dots instead, because she liked it to gather where the fur was thickest, on the tail, the chest and the backs of the legs, where the light gave up first.

Her husband had drawn the original, years before the flood took the cellar and the lettering off the sign. Pim was not his cat. Pim had come in out of the storm the winter after he died, thin as a rake, and settled on the same sill as if it had been waiting for someone to notice. Mrs Halloran said it was the only thing left in the building that still did what the drawing told it to.

When I lifted the top sheet, a faint grey ghost of the cat showed through from the sketch beneath, and at the tail the dots had pressed through in exactly the same places, as if the animal had been sitting there all along waiting to be copied. Outside, the snow had filled the paw prints under the window. Inside, Pim stretched, stepped down and walked straight across the drawing without leaving a mark.

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