Black and grey fine line tattoo of a sleeping fox curled up on the inner upper arm, drawn with stippled dotwork shading.

Sleeping fox curled up on an upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A small fox lies curled in a loose circle, head resting on its body with eyes closed, and its tail wrapped along the base. The linework is fine and dark, with short hatching strokes and stippled dots that build fur texture and shading on the body and ears. The tattoo is in black and grey on pale skin, centred in the frame against a plain background.

Fine line Dotwork Upper arm Fox Animal

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

I found the fox on the bench outside the closed bakery on Calder Street, just after the last bus had gone past with its lights on and nobody inside. It had folded itself into a loose ring, tail tucked along the slats, nose resting on its own flank as if the whole city were a bed it had been asked to keep quiet in. I didn't wake it. My shift at the depot ended at two and I had nothing better to do with my hands than keep them in my pockets and watch.

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Mrs Okafor from the flat above the launderette came down at half past two in her slippers with a saucer of milk she said she'd been leaving out since March. She didn't seem surprised to find me there. "She's not a he," she said. "Not that anyone's asked her." We stood and watched the fox breathe, the fur along its back lifting and settling in short strokes of dark light from the streetlamp. Every so often one ear turned toward the traffic lights changing on the empty junction, then turned back.

The council wanted the bench gone by spring, and a letter about it was pinned inside the bakery window. I told her so. She said foxes had outlasted councils before and she wasn't going to start doubting them now. We left the saucer where it was and walked home in opposite directions.

When I came back on Thursday the bench was bare. The milk had been licked clean, and caught on a rusted bolt under the slats was a single tuft of fur, the colour of wet bricks. I folded it into my wallet without quite knowing why, and it is still there.