Black fine-line cat with cyan eyes, a pink collar and a cigarette with curling smoke, tattooed on the midriff below a pink lace bra.

Smoking black cat with pink collar

Other · Mixed · Photo

A black cat sits upright in profile with its head turned towards the viewer, showing cyan eyes and a pink collar with a small bow. It holds a pink-tipped cigarette with a thin curl of smoke rising from it, and its long tail curls up on the right. The solid black fill and clean outlines are set against plain pale skin, with the design sitting in the upper centre of the frame.

Other Cat Cigarette Smoke Collar Bow Tail

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody aboard the Constance Hale could say when the cat had taken up smoking, only that by the second week out of Grimsby she would not come up the companionway without her roll-up. Dennis Pask lit it for her each morning with the spare match he kept behind one ear, and she held it at the corner of her mouth as though she had paid for the boat herself. The pink collar had come from a pet shop on Anlaby Road, its bow already lopsided before they reached the dock.

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Skipper Alf Grieve disapproved on principle. He said a ship's cat should earn its keep catching mice in the hold, not sitting on the hatch cover with her tail curled round the rail, watching the nets come up silver and dripping while the gulls shouted at her. She ignored him with a long, cyan-eyed patience that seemed to say she had seen skippers come and go off the Dogger Bank and had outlasted every one.

On the third night the swell came up from the south-west faster than the forecast had promised. Dennis was at the wheel, half asleep, when the cat stood up on the wheelhouse step with her back arched and her tail stiff as a boathook. He saw it and swung the bow round a moment before the first wall of green water came over the rail. Alf never mentioned that night again, but he stopped calling her a nuisance.

When they tied up at dawn, she walked down the gangway ahead of the crew, tail high, the cigarette still smouldering between her teeth. A thin grey curl trailed behind her across the wet concrete. Alf watched her go, then took out his pipe and, for the first time in years, did not light it.