Two lower legs with traditional style tattoos of red roses, a cat's head, a moth and a penny-farthing bicycle, worn with a grey skirt and black shoes.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Traditional roses, cat and moth on two legs

Traditional · Calf · Colour · Photo

Two lower legs are covered in traditional style tattoos, including two large red and pink roses with green leaves near the knees, a tabby cat's head with a red flower, a moth, and a penny-farthing bicycle. The designs use bold black outlines with solid, flat colour fills in red, green, pink and grey. The legs stand upright on a wooden floor, with the tattoos filling most of the frame and black lace-up shoes at the bottom.

Traditional Calf Rose Cat Moth Bicycle Flower Leaves

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The penny-farthing had been leaning against the back wall of the Fenmarket Hall since the spring fair, its great front wheel gone dull with pigeon muck, and nobody in Thorney Lode had claimed it. Nobody except Tabitha Quill, the tabby who slept in the rose bed behind the chapel and considered every unattended object in the village hers by right of inspection.

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On the Saturday of the Harvest Ride she climbed into the saddle at dawn, which nobody had thought possible, and pedalled the length of the causeway with her ears flat and her tail straight up like a flag. The rose-growers came out to watch. Old Mr Dunning, who had ridden the same machine in 1891 and broken two fingers for his trouble, swore she would be in the drain by the first bend. She was not. She took the bend on her hind legs, scattered a flock of geese, and came down the far side with a grey moth lifting out of the spokes like a small surrender.

The prize was a silver cup and a red ribbon, but Mrs Quill, who kept the lock-keeper's cottage, wanted nothing more than her cat back on the hearth by teatime. Tabitha had other plans. She lay down across the saddle in the rose bed and would not be moved until the bell rang for evensong, and by then half the parish had come to admire the stubbornness of a creature that had never once in its life asked for permission.

That winter the cup sat on the chapel windowsill, the roses bloomed red as a fresh cut, and the penny-farthing stayed chained to the post by the lock, its wheel polished bright. Nobody in Thorney ever again asked whose machine it was.