Small black fine line tattoo of an infinity symbol with a paw print in one loop and a heart curl, on the upper arm near the elbow, shown in a four-panel collage.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Infinity paw print and heart on upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo is a small infinity symbol drawn in thin black linework, with a solid paw print sitting inside one loop and a heart shape formed by the line curling off the other end. The collage shows four photographs of the same arm from different angles against a black and white checkered floor. The ink is solid black with no shading or colour, and the tattoo sits centrally in each frame.

Fine line Upper arm Infinity Paw print Heart

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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

Nell slipped her collar on the third night in Ashford, and I didn't notice until the generator coughed and the Waltzer lights went out in a shiver of bulbs. I stood by the coconut shy holding a fistful of wet rings, calling a name half the field had never heard. Gideon on the dodgems said he'd seen her trotting towards the back of the lorries, nose down, as if she had an appointment.

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The caravans sit nose to tail behind the big top, their windows dark and their steps hung with tarpaulin. I followed her with a torch that flickered every third step until I found her sitting square in front of the last van, the one with the peeling gold leaf round the door. Madame Ilse had kept it. She died in February in a hospital bed in Ipswich, and the fair had promised to sell the van in the spring and never got round to it.

Nell pressed her nose to the bottom step. Someone had painted a small mark there in white enamel, a figure of eight lying on its side, with a paw print tucked inside one loop and a heart curling off the other end. Ilse had done it for every dog that ever worked her pitch, a sign that you could always come back and the road would bend round to the same place. I sat on the step with the torch pointed at the grass and listened for a whistle I had never once heard her use.

We drove out at dawn, the lorries grinding onto the A12 in a long line. Nell rode in the cab with her head out of the window, and when the convoy took the bend past the reservoir she turned to watch the van go back the way we'd come, as if she knew the loop would close again come October.