Colour fine line tattoo of the cartoon character Piglet in a green jumper holding a dandelion, with seeds drifting away, on the upper chest near the collarbone.

Piglet holding a dandelion on the upper chest

Fine line · Chest · Colour · Photo

A small cartoon pig character in a green top stands on the skin holding a green-stemmed dandelion clock, with several seeds drifting up and away to the right. The linework is thin and dark with soft pink shading on the pig's face and body and flat green fill on the top. The tattoo sits on the upper chest against a pale background of skin, with a pink knitted fabric edge in the lower right corner.

Fine line Chest Pig Dandelion Seed Cartoon character

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody on Hask could say for certain when the pig came, only that he arrived on the Tuesday boat in a wicker basket, wearing a green jumper knitted too long in the sleeves, and that he was afraid of gulls. My father took him in because the boatman had no use for him, and because the island had no proper pig to speak of, only a goat that believed it was a dog.

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He spent his mornings on the machair behind the chapel, picking dandelion clocks and carrying them about like lanterns. He never blew on them the way the children did. He said a clock had to be asked first, so he would hold it an inch from his snout and murmur his question, and only then puff, very gently, so the seeds went where they were meant to go.

The autumn the ferry stopped for the winter, he came into the post office with one clock left and asked me to carry it to the mainland. I told him the wind blew west in winter, which was the wrong way for anything to reach Oban. He nodded as though he had known that all along. He said he was not sending it to Oban. He wanted it to find the lighthouse keeper's boy, who had gone south to be a soldier and had not written since August.

I took the stalk from him and blew. The seeds went off over the harbour, flat and wobbling, and I watched until my eyes stung. When I turned round, the pig had already gone back up the machair to find another. In the spring, when the first boat came in, there was a letter on the counter in a hand I did not know, asking whether the little pig was still afraid of gulls. I wrote back that he was, but that he had stopped minding them.