Black and grey fine line drawing of a small sitting rabbit with long upright ears and stippled shading, shown as a tattoo design on a white background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sitting rabbit line drawing

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

A small rabbit sits upright, facing the viewer, with long ears, round eyes, a dotted nose and whiskers. The outline is drawn in fine, delicate lines, with stippled dots used for shading the ears, body and feet. The design is shown in black on a plain white background with no body part visible.

Fine line Dotwork Rabbit Animal

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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

Sit closer, the lot of you, and mind the candle before it takes a sleeve. The snow has been coming down since Martinmas and the Coach and Horses has not seen a traveller in nine days. So I will tell you about the rabbit, because that is what the snow wants, and because the innkeeper's daughter swore to me it was true.

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It came up the lane on the worst night of the year, when the drifts were over the gatepost and the bell rope had frozen stiff. Nobody heard it knock. It simply sat on the step with its long ears laid back against the wind, grey as the sky and just as still, and when Tom Harrow flung the door open to shout at whatever fool was out there, the creature looked up at him as if he were the one who had come late. Its nose went twitch, twitch, the way a kettle murmurs before it sings.

Tom was a hard man about coin and softer about nothing else, so he let it in. It sat by the hearth and did not touch the bread, nor the ale, nor run from the dog. It only watched the door with eyes like two drops of ink. Each time the wind found a crack in the shutters, its ears lifted and turned towards the lane, and each time Tom's wife Marjory set down her mending and looked the same way, though she would never say why.

On the third morning a carter from Ludlow cleared the road and found the inn with its chimney smoking and the door wedged open. The rabbit was gone. In the snow on the step there were four small prints, neat as stitches, leading away towards the frozen river. Marjory said nothing about it. But Tom kept a crust by the back door every winter after that, and Marjory never once asked the lane who had gone missing.