Flash design of a pink pig sitting on a rose inside a heart made of petals, with the initials SJ above, in a botanical style with black linework and pink watercolour.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pig and rose in a petal heart

Botanical · Colour · Flash

A small pink pig sits on top of a full rose, framed by a heart outline built from loose, outlined petals. The initials SJ are written in a script lettering at the top right of the heart. The black linework is fine and defined, with soft pink wash shading on the pig, the rose and the petals, and the design is centred on a plain white background.

Botanical Pig Rose Petal Heart Initial

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The man in the booth at Calais wanted to know why a pig was riding in the cab of a flower lorry. I told him she was a passenger, which was true, and that she had paid her fare in the usual way, with a carrot and a promise. He did not smile. He tapped at his screen and asked for the manifest, and I handed over the damp sheaf of papers my uncle had kept in a biscuit tin since before I was born.

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Margery had been perched on the top crate since the auction in Aalsmeer, sitting on a bloom so full and pink it looked as if it had been dropped there by accident. That rose was the reason for the trip. Uncle Stan had grown it behind the pig pens, a variety with no name, only a label in his neat capitals that read SJ, for Sheila Jenkins, who had told him that petals always fell in hearts if you left them alone long enough.

The officer wanted the crate opened. I unlatched it with fingers that would not stop shaking, and the lid lifted. Margery shifted her weight, the rose gave way under her, and a shower of petals slid out across the steel floor of the inspection bay. They drifted, caught a draught from the doors, and settled into a loose ring around the pig's small pink body. Nobody spoke. The officer looked at the petals for a long moment, then at Margery, who looked back at him with the calm of a creature who had never once been late for anything.

"Right," he said at last, and stamped the sheaf without reading it. "Off you go."

I drove out past the barrier with the windows down. In the mirror Margery had climbed onto the dashboard and was watching the grey water come up over the horizon, a single pink petal stuck to her ear like a visa.