My wife's perception is so uncanny I call her a witch. She just smiles and plays along with it. We had a rescue cat, a Birman. That cat adored my wife, followed her all around the house. I would tease and tell her that the cat was her familiar.
Her beloved cat lived for twenty years and thankfully, passed away peacefully without the need for the vet's dreaded syringe.
To ease my wife's loss, I bought a very deep, large, earthenware pot. We buried the cat in it and planted a rose called: "Sweet Memories," to grow there.
But my witch wanted something special, something to remember her familiar with. A tattoo.
My wife has four tattoos on her face, but I defy you to see them, even though they are huge and you can't miss them.
She has the most perfect eyebrow shape and the most beautiful red lips ever.
Two of my children had tattoos at 18, first term at university. I was cross though I only knew when they were ironing in undies and the tats were visible on their lower backs.
A few years later I had a temporary henna tattoo on my arm. They thought it was permanent and talk about moral high ground, long lectures about what a ridiculous thing to do. 
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