Realistic black and grey tattoo of a cat's face with blue eyes, shaded in fine detail on the inner forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Realistic cat face on forearm

Realism · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A realistic cat face tattoo sits on the forearm, with the head shown front-on and whiskers extending across the skin. The fur is built up with fine grey shading and dark linework around the ears and forehead, while the eyes are filled with bright blue ink. The design is centred on the forearm against a dark background.

Realism Forearm Cat Cat face Whiskers Blue eye Portrait

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 cat came ashore on the supply boat in October, wedged in a fish crate with a tin of pilchards and a note that read only Keep her out of the lamp room. Halloran read it twice, set the crate on the step and went back to scraping the gallery rail as if it were a bill. I was the one who carried her up the stairs, so I was the one she chose.

Keep reading

She was grey as wet slate, striped across the forehead as though someone had raked her with a comb, and her eyes were a blue so pale they seemed lit from behind. By the third night she had claimed the bench beneath the lens. When the great lamp turned she turned with it, following the beam round the horizon as if she were counting the boats out there and finding them short.

The fog came in the second week of November and stayed nine days. We sounded the horn every ninety seconds and fed the lamp by hand, and the cat sat on the sill with her whiskers pricked toward the water. On the seventh night a trawler's light appeared, wandering low on the swell, and she began yowling at the glass until I swore and climbed up to check the wick.

The trawler came in on our beam. Its skipper told the harbour office later that he had seen a steady blue glint above the rock and steered for it, though he swore the light was the wrong colour for a lamp. Halloran never corrected him. When the cat died in March I buried her under the fog bell, facing the sea, and kept one lamp burning above her for a week, because it seemed the least we owed the only keeper who had never once asked for leave.