Colour tattoo of a cartoon baby tiger with large blue eyes, orange and black stripes and a black-tipped tail, on skin.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cartoon baby tiger with blue eyes

Colour · Photo

The tattoo shows a cartoon baby tiger facing forward, with large glossy blue eyes, a pink nose and a white muzzle. Its orange fur is shaded with yellow and red, and bold black stripes run across the head, body and tail, which ends in a black tip. The design sits on plain skin and is filled with soft, blended colour against a simple background.

Tiger Cartoon Eye Stripe

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Shut that door before the snow gets in, Dorrie, and pass the stool to the tall man who has been dripping on my floor since Tuesday. Right. The cub and the pie. Everybody in the Hollin Gate knows the start of it, but nobody knows the end, because the end is still sitting on my hearth.

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The cub came over the pass in a crate of Assam tea, the kind of crate the carters swear they never open. Round as a bread roll, orange as a marigold, with a black-tipped tail that stuck up like a question. Marta, who kept the kitchen then, said it would be eating the hens by Candlemas. It did not. It ate the pie.

Mark it: a mutton pie, two days cooling on the sill for the bishop's clerk, who was snowed in with the rest of us. The cub sat on the sill and looked up at Marta with those great blue eyes, glossy as the lake under ice, and Marta, who had sworn at three ostlers and a bishop, just sighed and handed it the crust. Then the clerk came down, took one look at the empty tin, and got the same look back. Nobody in that room could stay cross with it. By the second cup of mulled wine the whole inn had forgiven it, and the clerk was reading it psalms.

Here is the bit they never tell in the village. That night the cub climbed the bell rope and rang it until the snow stopped. Nobody asked it to. The stripes on its tail went still, the black tip curled over its paws, and it fell asleep with its eyes half open, as if it were still hunting for pie. It is there now, by the fire. Mind your boots. It has eaten the last of the crusts.