Colour tattoo of a Boston Terrier face in sugar skull style, with pink flower shapes for ears and teal and orange ornament on the skin.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sugar skull style Boston Terrier face

Traditional · Colour · Photo

A close view of a Boston Terrier face drawn in a day of the dead sugar skull style, with black fur markings, white muzzle areas and a red nose. Pink flower shapes sit above the ears, and the eyes and cheeks are decorated with green, teal and orange scrollwork and dots. The bold black outlines and flat, saturated fills give the piece a traditional look, set against plain skin.

Traditional Dog Sugar skull Flower Ornament

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The dog has dug up the marigolds again. You find him at the bottom of the allotment with his nose buried in the bed you planted for your nan's birthday, pink petals stuck to his black ears like confetti someone forgot to brush off. Next door, Mrs Okafor has pinned paper skulls to her shed and set out sugar ones on the windowsill for the first of November, and they are going soft in the damp, the way things do when nobody is minding them.

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You call his name, Biscuit, and he lifts his head with his white muzzle and his red nose, looking like someone has pressed a cherry onto him for a joke, and he does not come. Instead he nudges at something under the soil. It is a tin box, rusted at the hinges, with DO NOT OPEN scratched into the lid in capitals that wobble. The handwriting is yours. You buried it here the summer you were nine, and you had completely forgotten.

Inside there are two green glass eyes from a doll, a fistful of seed packets gone brittle with age, and a folded note in pencil. Whoever finds this, it says, plant something that comes back every year. You sit on the upturned bucket for a long time with the note on your knee while the dog leans his warm weight against your shin and sighs like a man who has done a hard day's work.

In March you plant marigolds over the spot, orange and gold, and you press the two green eyes into the soil as a joke you do not explain to anyone. Biscuit stands guard at the gate with his pink-tipped ears up. By November the flowers are back, taller than the fence, and he is already waiting beside the hole, tail going, as if he knows exactly what gets dug up next.