In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Tattoo….You?.”
If I were to ever get a tattoo, it would have to be meaningful. My tattoo would be something along the lines of an anchor and a cat. Before you accuse me of being mainstream with the pop culture obsession of nautical themes and cats, let me explain.
Junk food and television. Two luxuries I would use to describe myself after a long day, whether it be classes, work or both. I’ve dabbled in many different TV series: Pretty Little Liars, Glee, Teen Wolf. But competitions hold a place in my heart. The people who go on these shows aren’t sitting on their butts like I am. They applied and once they were given a spot on the show, their lives changed, no matter if they won or not.
I’m attracted to the competitions I don’t think I would have a chance in whether I’m too out of shape or don’t have the time or skill. For example, Best Ink, on Oxygen. The tattoo artists in this competition are mad talented and all have unique styles. Watching how the bright pink ink seeps and is embedded into the person’s skin is kind of mesmerizing and the finished pieces are sometimes drab, but most times fab.
Before this show, I never considered getting a tattoo – the process of getting one looked like it hurt like hell and I’d be afraid of picking something I’ll regret. But I know one thing I’ll never regret – my love of cats. Cat shirt? Gotta have it. Cat lip balm? Gotta have it. Cat wine charms? I don’t drink, but they are TOO adorable to paws up (see what I did there?)
I’ve been trying to conjure a sentence about my past pet cats but couldn’t find the words, so with the risk of being cheesy, my cats have been my rock. Vee-Vee was there to get me through middle school drama and to be the muse of many picture sessions.
Olive was there for me when I came home from VCU and to hold onto when classes were hard and hectic. (Now there is another cat in the house, but he’s the court jester/love bug with everyone, so sorry Dodger, but you’re not included.) Both cats were there when I got scared and upset and needed something to tell my secrets and thoughts to without a response. I fill their food dish and open the door to the outside world for them, but when they are inside at night in my bed, I feel they are there not because it is a warm bed, but because they want to be with me. Cats are used as therapeutic animals and in my case, from the close bonds I’ve had with them, can tell when I’m sad.
Cats are my anchor. They keep me grounded and prevent me from drifting from what really matters, like filling their food dish. Just imagine a cat sleeping on an anchor or a portrait of Olive and a little anchor charm on her collar. I’ll make some doodles later.
None of what I’m saying means I’m confused or depressed or anything of the like. Cats are just easier to talk to.
My mom said something about her wanting to get a tattoo of two little cats I drew. Maybe we will get mom and daughter tats for my birthday.
But I’m happy with a gift card, some cake and a kitten too.