Colour tattoo on a lower leg showing the word Yorkies in black script above a cartoon Yorkshire terrier with a red bow and a small paw print.

Yorkies script and cartoon Yorkshire terrier on a calf

Lettering · Calf · Mixed · Photo

A black script word reading Yorkies with a small paw print sits above a cartoon Yorkshire terrier with a red bow on its head and a dark nose. The script has fine, flowing linework with some shading, while the dog is filled in with tan, brown and red tones. The design is centred on a smooth patch of skin against a soft, textured background.

Lettering Calf Dog Script Paw print Bow Cartoon

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit yourselves down and mind the fire, for this is the tale of the customs man at Coldstream bridge and the widow with the basket. He had searched four hundred lorries that spring, and he could smell a smuggler the way a terrier smells a rat. So when the old woman stepped up to his hatch with a wicker basket on her arm and a face like a closed purse, he put his hand out flat and said, "Anything to declare?"

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"Only Duchess," said she.

He lifted the cloth. Inside sat a small Yorkshire terrier, silk-brown and cross as a wet cat, with a red bow tied on top of her head as if she'd been to a wedding. Her eyes peered out from under all that hair, and she looked at the officer the way a magistrate looks at a man who has come to court in slippers.

"Duchess carries no tobacco," he said.

"No, she carries the papers," said the widow. "Look at the bow."

He looked. Tucked beneath the ribbon was a folded sheet, damp at one corner, addressed in pencil to a Mr Angus Rae at the mill house in Kelso. Inside were four lines and a pressed daisy: the lambing was done, the spring was dry, and the sister in Berwick had finally stopped writing about the hymn book. He read it twice. It was not a crime to send a letter, and it was barely a crime to send a dog.

So he took his stamp, the square black one that said APPROVED in letters worn soft, and asked for Duchess's paw. The widow lifted the little front foot, and he pressed it to the corner of the form. It left a neat print, four toes and a pad. "Through you go," he said. "Both of you." Duchess sneezed, the widow tucked her under one arm, and the red bow went bobbing off towards Scotland, and the officer stood a while looking at the grey water, wondering who had ever told him dogs couldn't keep a secret.