Flash design of a black kitten with amber eyes resting its paws on the rim of a Nutella jar, drawn in a realistic style with a white outline.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Kitten peeking from a Nutella jar

Realism · Mixed · Flash

A young black kitten with large amber eyes rests its white front paws on the rim of a Nutella jar. The drawing uses fine pencil-like hatching and soft shading for the fur, with a crisp white outline around the whole design. The jar label, lettering and hazelnut and cocoa illustrations are rendered in greys and browns against a warm orange-brown vignetted background.

Realism Kitten Cat Whiskers Jar

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

The jar had belonged to Auntie Win for as long as anyone could remember, so when the kitten was found with his front paws hooked over the rim, nobody thought to panic until the lid turned up on the kitchen lino, rolling in slow circles like a dropped coin. Pickle did not look guilty. He looked like a small black bishop who had been asked to bless a feast and had decided to start with the pudding.

Keep reading

By teatime the whole street knew. Mr Okafor from number nine offered a teaspoon and a theory about suction. The postman suggested butter. Win stood at the sink with her arms folded and said nothing, which her husband had learned over forty years meant she was enjoying herself. Pickle sat in the mouth of the jar, paws resting on the rim, amber eyes narrowed at the lot of them. The spread had reached his chin, and he was ignoring it with great dignity.

It was Win who solved it in the end, with a bowl of warm water and the patience of a woman who had raised four children. She set the jar in the bowl, ran the tap to a trickle, and waited. Ten minutes later the kitten gave a sulky shake, worked one paw free, then the other, and dropped onto the floor with a sound like a kiss.

He sat there, glossy and ruined, and licked each paw in turn. Then he looked up at the jar, scrubbed clean on the draining board, and gave a long, offended miaow, as if the whole affair had been its fault. Win kept it on the windowsill for years, rinsed and empty, and Pickle never went near it again, though he would sit beside it for an hour at a time, watching it the way you might watch a door you have decided not to open.