Colour neo-traditional style tattoos of an owl on the left foot and a squirrel on the right foot, with ornamental swirls and feathery shapes around them.

Owl and squirrel tattoos on both feet

Neo-trad · Other · Colour · Photo

Two feet are shown side by side, each with a tattoo of an animal framed by ornamental swirls and feathery shapes. The left foot has a teal and lilac owl with a green eye, and the right foot has an orange squirrel with a blue eye and striped shading on its body. Bold black outlines define the forms, with soft colour washes and grey shading across the designs.

Neo-trad Other Owl Squirrel Feather Swirl Feet

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mind the third stair, it has never forgiven anybody. Sit by the range where the sea can't reach you through the glass. Right, you'll want the owl and the squirrel, because that's what the whole front room has been arguing about since the August gales.

Keep reading

Hollis was the owl. He'd lived in the attic of Gull Rest for nineteen years, a grey-feathered sort with opinions and one green eye that could find a sixpence in a coal scuttle. Peg was the squirrel, and she came in every morning through the scullery window, a ginger flame with a tail like a bonfire, and took the crusts off the breakfast plates before Mrs Ashdown could lift a cloth. Hollis said she was a thief. Peg said he was a fusspot who slept through the best of the sunrise. Neither of them would be the first to say good morning.

Then came the gale of the autumn equinox. The sea went over the wall at Sallow Bay and into the lane, and the power died with a sound like a kettle giving up. Everybody crowded into the kitchen with the candles. The water crept under the scullery door, and Peg, who could not abide water, climbed the dresser and sat shivering with her tail wrapped round her nose. Hollis, who never came down the stairs for anything, flew through the candle smoke and landed on the rail beside her, and he didn't say a word about crusts.

When the tide turned at dawn the owl was still there, and so was the squirrel, pressed against his grey wing as if it had been her idea all along. Mrs Ashdown swore she saw him wink with that green eye. Peg swore she was asleep. Now, that's the story, and if you're asking whether they ever spoke again, I'll tell you they never once stopped, not even when the crusts ran out.