Small solid black cat silhouette tattoo on the inner wrist, shown against a dark background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small black cat silhouette on a wrist

Other · Black and grey · Photo

A tiny solid black silhouette of a seated cat, facing away from the viewer with its tail curled along the base, sits on the inner wrist. The shape is filled with black ink and has no internal detail or shading. The skin is light and the background is dark and out of focus, so the tattoo stands out clearly.

Other Cat Silhouette

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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

Now sit closer, you, and mind the rain dripping off the water butt. My grandmother always said you can tell a true story by whether it keeps its back to you, and this one does. Down at the bottom of Harrow Lane there was a garden with a wall of grey flint, and on that wall, every evening for a whole summer, sat a black cat with its tail curled round its feet like a bit of wet rope.

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The cat belonged to nobody. Old Mrs Pellow, who kept the greenhouse, fed it sardine heads and told the whole lane it was hers, but it never once looked at her. It sat with its face to the road, watching the gate where the postman left letters for the house across the way. Those letters were for a Mr Tobias Vane, who had gone north to the mills and never written back, and the cat watched that gate as though someone had made it a promise.

Come autumn, the blackberries went to mould on the brambles and the cat still sat there. Mrs Pellow tried to coax it down with a saucer of milk. It would not turn round. She gave up in the end and trained runner beans along the flints, and the beans climbed until the cat was half hidden in leaves, only its ears and its small seated shape showing above the green.

One morning in November the gate creaked. A boy in a wet cap came up the path with a parcel tied in string, and the cat stood up at last, stretched, and turned to face him. It looked at the boy for a long while, then at the greenhouse, then down the lane, and it jumped from the wall and trotted off the way the mills lay. It never sat on that flint again, and Mrs Pellow said the beans went wild that winter without anyone to tend them.