Colour traditional tattoo of a red rose with a central skull-like figure on a forearm, with a white long-haired cat held in the crook of the arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Traditional rose tattoo on a forearm holding a white cat

Traditional · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A forearm tattoo shows a large red rose with green leaves framing a central skull-like figure, outlined in bold black linework. The arm cradles a white long-haired cat that faces the camera, and the tattoo fills the upper part of the frame. Colour ink dominates, with red and green set against darker shading and the pale fur.

Traditional Forearm Rose Skull Cat Leaves

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody on Ferrier Street had seen the white cat leave the greenhouse willingly, so when Mrs Dunmore carried her out to the back wall on the last Sunday of June, the rooks went quiet on the chimney pots to watch. Edith did not struggle. She sat in the crook of the old woman's arm with her ears flat and her green eyes narrowed at the garden, as though it had been left in her charge and had got badly out of hand.

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The rose was the reason for it all. It had climbed that wall since the spring of 1961, when Walter Dunmore came home from the Hull docks with a cutting wrapped in a wet tea towel and a story about a sailor who had traded it for a bottle of rum. Every June it bloomed red as a fishing float. Every June the blackbirds stripped the leaves. This year the leaves had come up glossy and the blooms had opened all at once, and beneath them, where the mole had been busy, a pale knot of chalk showed through the soil, grinning up like something from a churchyard.

Mrs Dunmore set Edith down on the flagstones. The cat stalked to the edge of the bed, considered the chalk for a long moment, then stepped into the roses without a single thorn catching her coat. She curled on the stone as if it were a cushion, and the blooms bent close around her like a hand cupped over a match. The rooks started up again. By teatime the neighbours had gathered at the gate to see whether the cat would ever come out, and Mrs Dunmore told them the rose had only ever needed someone sensible enough to sit with it, then went in to put the kettle on.