Black and grey tattoo of a rabbit's head inside a scrolled ornamental frame with a bow, shown on skin in a fine line style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Rabbit in ornate frame with bow

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A rabbit's head in profile sits inside an oval, scrolled ornamental frame decorated with beaded edging, with a bow tied at the lower left. The linework is fine and even, with soft stippled shading on the ears, face and bow. The design is rendered entirely in black and grey ink against pale skin.

Fine line Neo-trad Other Rabbit Bow Frame Scrollwork Cameo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The last rabbit the Marchetti Brothers owned was called Duchess, and she had been bred for a magician's hat long before I came to the tent. By the autumn of the wet year, the Olympia Travelling Show had shrunk to four wagons, one elephant that no longer performed, and a ringmaster who drank his tea standing up so he could leave quickly. I was the mender. I patched canvas, oiled the cage hinges and turned the mangle that dried the costumes.

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Duchess lived in a hatbox lined with a velvet bow that Nell, the trapeze girl, had sewn for her first season. She would not eat until someone talked to her, so each night I sat on an upturned crate and told her about the towns we had left behind: Hull, where the rain came sideways off the docks, and Lincoln, where a farmer had paid us in cabbages. She listened with her ears laid flat, the way she did when she was pretending not to care.

In October a letter came from a solicitor in Shrewsbury. The field we wintered on was sold, and the animals had to go before the Christmas frost. Mr Marchetti read it twice at the table, folded it into his waistcoat and said nothing at all, which was worse than shouting. Nell cried into the sawdust. I went out to the wagons and sat with the hatbox on my knees until the lamps guttered.

In the morning I cut the velvet bow from the lining, tied it at Duchess's throat and carried her across two wet fields to the farmer's hedge where the sheep were kept. She sat very still in the grass, nose working at the air. When I set her down she did not run straight away. She turned once, looked back at me with that enormous dark eye, and then she was gone into the hedge, leaving the bow folded on my palm like something I had been given to keep.