Colour tattoo of a tabby cat wearing a pink bow tie above a black banner reading CAT LADY, on the inner forearm.

Tabby cat and CAT LADY banner on forearm

Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A vintage-style tabby cat with a pink bow tie sits above a black ribbon banner that reads CAT LADY in cream capitals. The cat is shaded in browns and tan with fine striped fur and green eyes, and the banner has solid black fill with folded tails. The tattoo is centred on a pale forearm against a plain light background, with a white sleeve at the left edge.

Forearm Cat Tabby cat Bow tie Banner

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The tabby had already eaten half the judge's cucumber sandwiches by the time you reached the marquee, so the rosette went to him by default and nobody had the heart to argue. You stood at the back of the crowd among the sweet peas, holding the pink bow tie Mrs Pyke had insisted on tying that morning, and watched him sit on the trestle table as if he had paid for it.

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The garden show had been your idea, though you had not expected it to be that sort of garden. Your back lawn had turned into a village green over the summer, with a row of runner beans and a tin bath of tadpoles, and the parish newsletter had printed your name beside the word eccentric. Somebody had painted CAT LADY on a plank and nailed it to your gatepost as a joke. You had hung it up yourself the next morning, its letters a little crooked, and left it there.

Mr Hollis, the judge, lifted the cat down and turned him over with two careful fingers. 'Pedigree?' he asked. 'Gregory,' you said. 'Off the wall behind the chapel, with a torn ear and a grudge.' He looked at the bow, then at you, and wrote something down that you could not read upside down. The crowd laughed when he pinned the rosette to the ribbon, and somebody called out, 'Cat Lady!' in the voice people use for a warning.

You waited until the marquee had emptied before you took Gregory back. He let you carry him down the path past the dahlias, purring against your collarbone with the rosette crumpled under his chin. At the gate you stopped to straighten the plank. The letters were still crooked, and for once you did not mind.