Colour neo-traditional tattoo of a sugar skull style cat face with pink, orange and yellow detailing on the upper arm, with a pink rose above it.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sugar skull cat on upper arm

Neo-trad · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A cat face styled with sugar skull decoration sits on the upper arm, with pink ears, dotted cheek markings, black outlines and orange and yellow accents. Above it, a red and pink rose and white flowers with green leaves run along the same arm. The shading is soft and the image is a close, slightly angled photo with the arm filling most of the frame.

Neo-trad Upper arm Cat Sugar skull Rose Flower Leaves

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cat had been sleeping on the ticket tin since Tuesday, and nobody on the Calder Brothers' fair would admit to owning her. She was grey as wet slate, with a face painted in pink and cream, the sort of markings you see on the lids of old sugar tins. She watched the dodgems with the patience of a stallholder. Mam called her Biscuit. Dad called her trouble. I called her nothing at all, because I was twelve and didn't want to get fond of something that belonged to the rides.

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Mrs Pryce ran the rose stall, selling paper roses for a shilling each, and she swore the cat came with the roses. Every morning there were fewer roses on the wire and one more petal on the cat's whiskers. Tomas, who worked the waltzers and smelled permanently of diesel, said she walked the whole field each night at closing, checking the generators like a foreman. He said it the way you'd talk about a relative who had a temper.

On the last night before we moved on to Keighley, the generator died in the middle of the Ferris wheel. The whole field went black except for the candle lamps on Mrs Pryce's stall. The cat came down off the tin, walked past the lorries, and sat by the back of the generator van until I followed her with a torch. Tomas found a chewed wire under the casing, and when the lights stuttered back on, the wheel turned, and a cheer rolled across the field like weather.

The next morning the tin was empty. Mrs Pryce pinned a pink paper rose to the van door where the cat had slept and said that was how you paid a fair its rent. I kept the rose in my coat pocket all season. At Keighley, weeks later, I found the cat asleep in a patch of sun on the ticket tin, grey and sugared and grinning, as if she had never left.