Black and grey dotwork drawing of two hairless sphynx cat heads interlocking inside a stippled circle, shown as a tattoo design.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Two hairless cats in a dotwork circle

Dotwork · Black and grey · Flash

The drawing shows two hairless cat heads, seen from the side, arranged in a rotational pair so they interlock within a solid black circle. The wrinkled skin and large ears are outlined with fine ink lines, while the shading is built from dense stippled dots that fade toward the edges of the circle. The image is entirely black and grey on a plain light background, with the design centred in the frame.

Dotwork Cat Sphynx cat Circle Cat head

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Morag,

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The cats came off the Kestrel with the coal in March, two of them in a crate marked for the minister's wife, and nobody on Eriskay would claim them. They are bald as boiled eggs and crinkled at the brow like old men who have been told bad news. Mrs Gillies says they are a breed from Canada, and the bairns call them the wrinkle twins, though they are not twins, only two strays who turned up at the same back door on the same wet night.

Here is the odd thing. Every evening they find the warm patch in front of the range and lie down nose to tail, so that when I come in with the lamp they look like a dark wheel with no spokes. The light from the window makes a black ring on the flagstones and they fit right into it. I have started leaving the lamp off so I can watch them settle. Ruth, the one with the notched ear, always goes first and Dora waits, purring at the back of her neck until she gives in.

Mr Macleod at the pier says a ring like that means weather. I told him the cats were only tired. He laughed, which I took as a yes.

Last week I found them curled that way on my good coat, which I had left on the chair. I should have been cross. Instead I stood there for a long time with the kettle going cold and thought of you and me on the step at Gran's, the summer you wouldn't let me on the swing. Come at Easter. Bring the boy. There is room on the rug, and the cats have decided it is theirs, so you will have to ask them nicely.

Love, Isla