Black and grey tiger head tattoo on the middle finger of a hand, shown in a close photo against a dark background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Tiger head tattoo on a finger

Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A small tiger's head is tattooed across the middle finger, with its face facing forward, eyes, nose and whiskers visible. The linework is dark and the stripes and fur are built up with grey shading. The tattoo is centred on the finger with the pale skin and dark background framing it.

Hand Tiger Animal Finger

Find an artist for this

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 rain had found its way under the awning by half past four, and I was still arguing with the tarpaulin when Mrs Okafor came down the row with her umbrella folded under one arm like a rolled newspaper. She didn't want to buy anything. She wanted the tiger ring back, not to sell, she said, but to look at it, the way you'd check a letter before posting it.

Keep reading

My grandfather cast signet rings in a yard behind the Deptford stalls, each with a different beast pressed into the bezel. The tiger was his favourite because he said it looked like it was thinking about something it would never tell you. He cut the stripes with a graver so fine that rain beaded on them instead of running, and I had kept the last three in a tobacco tin under the till, waiting for someone who looked like they had a use for a face that stared back.

She turned the ring over in her palm, then slid it onto the middle finger of her left hand, where the skin was paler from a band that had been worn there for years and had come off recently. It fitted as though it had been measured for her. She held the hand up against the grey light and said her husband had worn a ring like it to the docks for thirty years, and that the tiger had kept an eye on the weather for him, which was more than the forecast ever managed.

I told her to keep it. She shook her head and pressed it back into my hand, and then she walked off down the wet lane with the umbrella still shut, the tiger's stripes catching the last of the lamplight at every step I could see.