Tattoos?

Tattoos . . . I'd consider one, but with my dark complexion I'm not sure it would show up. Maybe a freeze brand? I'm thinking the Kanji character for "Muleness," right above my rump. Or does that sound trashy? Cliché? 


Actually, I was thinking of FarmWife. She has a couple of tattoos, and would like a couple more. I encourage this desire . . . after all, what better way for her to commemorate our love than to have my figure emblazoned permanently upon her body?


Mirri—her childhood dog, that most mulish of canines, who saw her through middle school, high school, college, marriage, and motherhood—has a spot on FarmWife's right arm. There's a tantalizing spot just beside it that is just calling my name! 

FarmWife's left arm is fair game . . . I'm thinking a nice art nouveau portrait of me, Fenway Bartholomule, surrounded by monkshood and wisteria—done in the style of Mucha. Picture this, but with me in place of the sultry lady and with "Ears to You" in place of "Moet & Chandon," "Fenway" in place of "champagne," and "Bartholomule" in place of White Star. We should be able to make it fit between her wrist and shoulder if we squeeze! 

What about you? Any humans out there with tattoos? Horses with brands? Donkeys with earrings? I'd love to see them all.


OK, not the earring thing. That just sounds mean.


Ears to you,
Fenway