Colour neo-traditional tattoo of a hairless sphynx cat wearing a blue striped scarf on the upper arm, with dotted circle linework.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sphynx cat in a blue scarf on an upper arm

Neo-trad · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A hairless sphynx cat with large turquoise eyes and a blue striped scarf tied in a bow at the neck. The cat has bold outlines and soft shading, with its face split into pink, orange and yellow panels. Fine dotted arcs and whisker strokes frame the head against the skin.

Neo-trad Upper arm Cat Sphynx cat Scarf Bow Whiskers Dotted circle

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Hester Vane lit the oven at three, as her mother had, and the first thing she saw when the lamp came up was the cat on the proving shelf. It was hairless and grey-pink as a peeled almond, with ears like two torn sails, and it had come in through the coal hatch in February without asking anyone. Around its neck was a strip of blue striped ticking tied in a bow. Hester had never seen a scarf that colour in the fen villages, but the cat wore it as if it had always been there.

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The miller's widow, Agnes Coe, had kept a cat just like it before the frost took her, and folk said the creature went round the lanes before dawn, leaving a loaf on the doorsteps of houses where the fire had gone out in the night. Hester thought this was gossip until the morning she found the cat at the back door with flour on its whiskers and a crust in its mouth, which it dropped at her feet with great dignity.

So she began baking for two. Each morning the cat sat on the sill while the window glass caught the first grey light and threw it across the room in pink and orange, and each morning it went out with a warm loaf under its chin, the blue bow bobbing, and came back with nothing at all.

On the last morning of the winter she followed it. The cat trotted past the chapel and the drowned orchard to a cottage with no smoke, and set the loaf on the step with a small, deliberate push. The door opened on an old man in a nightshirt who looked down, then at the sky, then at her, and said only, "She always did like the early ones." When Hester turned, the lane was empty, and the cat was already sitting on her windowsill, waiting for breakfast.