Black and grey fine line tattoo of a dog face on the side of the ribs, built from geometric hatched lines.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Geometric dog face tattoo on the ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A stylised dog face fills most of the frame, with large round eyes, a dark rounded nose and a symmetrical outline of ears and jowls. The design is made of many fine parallel lines and hatched sections that shade the form, with small dotted accents around the muzzle. The tattoo sits on pale skin and is shown centred in the frame against a dark background.

Fine line Geometric Ribs Dog Animal Portrait Linework

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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 down, you lot, and mind the lamp, it's the last oil we've got until the barges come up the Thames. Now. You want the story of Mags, the hound with the lines in her face. Everybody born after the Drowning has heard it wrong, so listen close.

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Mags was a dog of wire and old tyre rubber, though the fen folk swore she had been flesh once and the wires grew in after. Her ears were drawn in a hundred thin strokes so the wind off the Wash could run through them and tell her where the rain was coming. Every dusk she walked the causeway from Holbeach to the salt pans with a satchel of seed-tins on her back, and every dusk the crows followed, because crows always know where the grain is going.

One winter the causeway gave way under a slab of ice and a boy called Teodor went through with the cart. Mags did not bark. She lay flat on the lip of the hole with her big round eyes fixed on the black water, kept her weight where the stone was thick, and waited. The boy came up the rope hand over hand, and when he got his breath he asked why she hadn't called the others. She pressed her dark nose to his cheek, the nose the mechanics had carved from a bearing, and that was answer enough.

They say she still walks the causeway, looking for the road that was never drowned. My grandmother swore she saw her in the fog last Tuesday, and I have never known my grandmother to lie about a dog. So if you walk the banks at dusk, keep your eyes on the water. And if a hound with a face full of lines stops you, do what the boy did. Stay still and let her find the solid ground for you.