Black line-drawn cartoon sheep tattoo with a black head on the side of a person's torso, above the waistband of dark jeans.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cartoon sheep tattoo on the side of the hip

Other · Black and grey · Photo

A cartoon sheep with a fluffy outlined body, four thin legs and a black head with two large eyes is tattooed on the side of the torso. The design uses bold black outlines and solid black for the head, with the body left as unshaded skin. The sheep sits above a dark belt with metal eyelets, and a hand holding the waistband is visible at the lower left.

Other Cartoon Animal

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The officer at Holyhead turns your passport over twice, as if the cover might explain itself. "Purpose of travel?" You tell her you are collecting a ram from a breeder outside Dublin and bringing him home to the hill farm above Cwm Ffynnon. She asks his name. You say Gareth. She asks whether Gareth is an animal or a person, because the form has a box for each, and you tell her he is a Texel with a temper. She writes something down that makes you wish you had lied.

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Your mother sits in the passenger seat with the health certificates folded in thirds on her knee, the way she has folded every family document since your father sold the top field. Six children came out of that farm and only you came out with a face like a coal scuttle, and every aunt at every christening has had something to say about it. Nain used to say the black-faced ones always find the gap in the hedge first. You have spent your whole life finding gaps and calling them gateways.

The ram is the one thing you have ever bought outright, paid for with cash from a summer cleaning the ferry decks and two seasons of tupping lambs at a rate that embarrassed your brothers. The paperwork lists you as keeper. Your mother has read that line four times without saying a word, which is how you know it is good news.

The officer hands back the passports, waves the lorry's plate through, and lifts her hand toward the barrier. In the trailer behind you, Gareth bleats once, low and certain, the way a man might announce he has arrived. The barrier rises. You drive on into Wales with the window down, and at the first gate you pass you don't even look for the gap.