Cartoon cow tattoo with black outline, black spots and a pink muzzle, placed on the upper back near the shoulder blade.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cartoon cow on upper back

Back · Mixed · Photo

A small, chubby cartoon cow sits upright with a white body, black spots and a large pink muzzle. The design is drawn in a bold black outline with simple flat fills and no shading. It is centred on smooth skin, with the shoulder curving across the right of the frame.

Back Cartoon Animal

Find an artist for this

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

Now sit still, the lot of you, because this is the true one about Biscuit, and she won't have it told wrong. Her mam was a Friesian off a farm near Stoke Bruerne, and Biscuit was the chubbiest calf ever to come up the towpath. She never once stood up like a proper cow. She sat, on her haunches, like a dog waiting for a biscuit, which is how she got her name and why your grandad always swore she'd been a lapdog in a previous life.

Keep reading

Now the nose. Your great-aunt Ivy kept a barrel of raspberry cordial in the stern locker, and one August Biscuit got her head in it and wouldn't come out. By the next lock she had a muzzle like a pink jelly, and the lock-keeper's wife took one look and sent for the fire brigade, which is the only time that was ever done for a cow.

The winter the cut froze to the depth of a man's knee, the Hartley got stuck fast in the ice below Buckby, and the lock was drowned under drift. Ivy went off across the fields for help and left Biscuit on the tiller. Well, the cow wouldn't steer and she wouldn't leave, so she sat down square on the coal, pink nose to the frost, and she bellowed. Three hours she bellowed, until the lock-keeper came running with a crowbar and half the village behind him, and the ice cracked like a biscuit under a boot.

They say she was never the same after, though anyone who knew her would tell you she was exactly the same. Sitting, pink, pleased with herself. And when the cut is still of an evening, you'll hear her out past the tunnel mouth, humming to the water as if she owned the whole canal. Mind you, she probably did.