Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Sitting cat outline on an ankle
Fine line · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo
A single unbroken black outline of a cat seated upright, with pointed ears, a raised head and a long tail curling around the base. The linework is thin and even, with no shading or fill, so the skin shows through inside the outline. The subject is centred on a close crop of the ankle, with a faint purple mark visible near the top edge.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The cat came aboard at Valparaiso in a crate stencilled for tinned peaches, and nobody on the Thessaly claimed her. Cook Ada Pruitt said she would keep her so long as she earned her biscuit, so every evening the cat sat on the brass rail above my range and watched the stockpot as if it owed her money. She never curled up or fussed. She sat bolt upright with her tail wrapped neatly round her feet, and she did not move even when the galley lurched and the ladles swung on their hooks.
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We ran into weather off the Horn in the third week of March. The sea came green over the rail and the cooking fat went everywhere, and Ada swore at the bread until it was burnt black on one side. When I looked up for the cat there was only the empty rail, a smear of salt where her paws had been, and the hatch banging open and shut on its chain.
I found her on the foredeck, soaked to the skin, sitting in the lee of the windlass. She faced the waves with her ears pricked and her tail laid round her in a single unbroken curl. I crouched to lift her and she turned to stone under my hands, quite rigid, as if someone had drawn her there in one pen stroke and forgotten to lift the nib. It was only when a gull came down and the swell dropped that she let me gather her up.
Back in the galley she stepped down from my arms, shook herself over the flour bin and climbed straight back onto the rail. Ada wiped the salt from the brass with her apron, and in the morning the cat was still there, watching the pot.
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