Two grey shaded paw print tattoos sit either side of the sternum on an upper chest, in a close-up wearing a yellow satin zip top.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Paw print tattoos on the upper chest

Chest · Black and grey · Photo

Two paw prints sit side by side on the upper chest, each with a central pad and four toe pads above it. The ink is dark grey with soft, blended shading rather than hard outlines, and the skin shows a warm, tanned tone. The tight crop centres the tattoos against a yellow satin top with a black zip, with no face in frame.

Chest Paw print Paw Animal

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The last lion in the Harrow and Vane travelling show was called Tuesday, because that was the day she had been bought, and she did not care for the name or for the show. By the third winter the big top had more patches than canvas, and the ring was rolled up in the back of a lorry that would not start on wet mornings. Nobody paid to see a lion that slept through the parade.

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Old Mabel Vane, who had kept the books since her husband went into the ground at Doncaster, said the cat should be sold to a zoo in Wales. The boy who mucked out the cages said she should be let go on the moor. Tuesday said nothing, because lions do not, and went on padding the length of her straw from wall to wall.

On the last night of the season the generator failed and the tent went black. In the dark the boy heard a soft thud, then another, then a sound like a thumb pressed into wet clay. When the lamps came back there were prints across the sawdust of the ring, each as wide as a dinner plate, leading out through the flap. Every one had a central pad and four toes set above it, and every one was filled with a grey dust that looked like ash.

Nobody followed them. Mabel said that was the trick of it. The tracks went past the lorries, past the last wire fence, and up the hill where the cat had never been allowed. By morning they were gone. The show broke up and went its separate ways, and the boy kept the lamp. On still evenings, people on the moor say you can find the prints pressed into the heather, heading east, always a little ahead of the wind.