Small black paw print tattoo on the top of a foot near the little toes, with purple painted toenails, on a light bedsheet.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small paw print tattoo on the top of a foot

Other · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a bare foot resting on a light patterned sheet, with purple polish on the toenails. A small tattoo sits on the top of the foot beside the smaller toes, made of a larger dark pad shape with smaller dark marks above it, resembling a paw print. The ink appears solid black with soft edges, and the tattoo fills a small area against the skin tone.

Other Paw print

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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

The lift in Ashgrove House has been broken since Tuesday, so you take the stairs with Biscuit hauling ahead of you, nose to the concrete, past the spray paint on the eighth-floor landing and the bin bags nobody has collected. Mrs Okafor from flat 31 caught you on the way up. She says the lurcher was whining at her door before six, and she had to shut him out before he woke her grandson.

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The roof is grey with drizzle and the pigeons have all crowded under the water tank. Biscuit stops where the felt has torn and sniffs at a smear of soot-black ash someone dragged across the tar, then whines and turns a tight circle, the way he does when something is wrong. You crouch down. The marks in the ash are small and round, six of them, pressed as neatly as rubber stamps. Each has a dark pad and a dot or two above it, and they lead straight to the roof hatch and stop there, as if whatever made them had simply decided to go back down.

Below you the estate glows in its thousand yellow squares. Last week someone had written in marker on the lift wall, Has anyone seen Pickle, grey, answers to nothing, and a phone number that you'd dismissed as a joke. You ring it now. A girl answers on the first ring, and her voice cracks when you describe the prints.

You follow them down, three flights, Biscuit at your heel. They end at the door of flat 9, where a small grey cat is curled in the warm gap behind the airing cupboard, one paw tucked under her chin. Biscuit sits down in the corridor and waits, tail thumping, as if he has done his part and would like the credit.