Traditional style tattoo of a tabby cat wearing a pink bow above a black banner reading CAT LADY, on the upper arm.

Tabby cat with bow and CAT LADY banner on upper arm

Traditional · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A tabby cat sits above a black ribbon banner with the words CAT LADY in white capitals, and a pink bow is tied at the cat's neck. The cat is shaded in browns and tans with fine detail in the fur and face, in a vintage illustration look. The tattoo is centred on the upper arm against plain white clothing and a light background.

Traditional Upper arm Cat Tabby cat Bow Ribbon Banner Text

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The tabby on the third-floor landing of Ashby Court has never once come to the door when called, so you have stopped calling. You simply let yourself in with the spare key Mrs Hollis left under the doormat in March, and the cat, Duchess, watches you from the top of the sideboard as though you were the one who had been misbehaving.

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It is gone eleven and the rain is working along the window frames in the stairwell. The flat smells of lavender and something older underneath. Mrs Hollis's letter sits propped against the clock, the hospital's blue envelope open so you can read the ward from the doorway: Ward 7, Bed 3. You fill the bowl, check the water, and notice the pink ribbon has slipped sideways on Duchess's neck, the way it always does when she has been sleeping under the radiator.

You sit on the bottom stair with your coat still on, because she will not come to you indoors unless she is certain you are staying. Duchess picks her way down the banister one paw at a time and settles on the step above you, upright, tail curled over her feet, face turned to the glass as if waiting for a bus cancelled years ago. A car passes below and its headlights slide across the hall wall and over a framed photograph of a woman in a green hat.

When you finally reach up to fix the bow, she allows it, just, and tips her head into your wrist. You tell her Ward 7 is only a lift ride away and visiting starts at ten. She does not believe you. Neither, quite, do you. But you tie the ribbon into a neat double loop, the way Mrs Hollis taught you, and by the time the streetlight blinks off across the road, the cat has settled against your knee, purring like a kettle that has decided to wait.