Victor Kellogg was close. He had been following a Lassie, a collie, whom had been trying to escape him. The tale had begun in England, where a mighty number of souls lived on the streets in the cold winter. Few were known to survive the cruel season. Fewer were known to prosper in it.
But Lassie had been the very backbone of a family unfortunate enough to be accursed with these conditions. They were very fortunate to have her, on the other hand. She gave them hope, a reason to continue striving to live. One couldn't help but fall bewitched by the beautiful and charming dog.
Victor had not been an exception to this. The man, a tall, wiry man well into his thirties had spotted the animal on his way to the general store.
Instantly, he had fallen head over heels in love with the creature, and vowed to obtain her. So, in the dead of the very same night, he nicked Lassie from the sides of her masters and mistress, a mother and her two poor little sons Mickey and Peter.
Of course, according to the usual story, Lassie was not amused with this plan, so she leaped over numerous high fences and gates, towards London. She had limped her way back to the usual street spot, only to find that it was vacated and desolate. The mother had died of consumption, and poor little Mickey and Peter had been dragged off to the orphanage kicking and screaming, where their kicking and screaming could not be heard.
Being a stupid dog at heart, Lassie did not know where to look, so she wandered aimlessly all over London, hoping that she might pick up their scent. She had accidentally been packed up into the hold of the Silver Rose and shipped off to the Caribbean. The Caribbean, as it turned out, was not a familiar playground to the travel-prone canine, so she was very much lost.
Humiliated and angered, Victor had followed the animal, being successful in general because of his ability to stop and ask for directions. Somehow, he had traced the dog to Tortuga (God knows how she ended up here) but had unfortunately lost her. Then, a drunken pirate, whom the dog had settled several days earlier for trying to hump her, gave directions to the Black Pearl. Victor had bartered passage on the Trident, a well-known naval ship that was set on a warpath in the direction of the Pearl, coinciding with Victor's wishes. On this night, the Trident had stealthily snuck up on the Pearl, intent on a battle that the Royal Navy and sea scum alike would speak of for generations to come. Which led to the present.
Victor peered across the dark waters. He was satisfied that his victory was merely a cannon blast and a smattering of blood away. After having chased the dog for what seemed to have been a year, the man wasn't sure if he wanted to see the dog dead or alive. Considering the sequels prior to this story, the writer had no doubts. She wanted the mutt dead, but apparently, the writer has virtually no say in the matter of Victor's opinion, which she found to be a pain in the royal rear.
"Prepare to board ship!" the captain shouted in a high-pitched squeaky voice.
Apparently, the writer had a good amount of input into this character.
The naval officers complied, swinging over to the opponent's quarterdeck, instantly met by a surprised yip from the collie, which alerted the crew of the vessel to wake up and shoot the man sleeping in the crow's nest.
Captain Jack Sparrow stepped out of his stateroom in his full pirate attire. He took one scandalised look at Lassie and resisted a sharp kick to her side. Normally, Jack enjoyed the presence of dogs and cats alike, but Lassie, for some reason, grated on him.
He recoiled instantly as the whistle of cannon fire resounded from the foe ship. Lassie took a mouthful of firepower and was slammed to the deck with an agonised howl.
"Thank you, mate," The pirate called out to the unseen assailant on the other side of the water. "The dog hasn't learned how to shut it, yet, and she's been a mighty slow learner!"
He retreated hastily as another cannon spat a nasty reply.
Victor, having swung over to the deck of the Pearl, saw the dog immediately. "Lassie!"
Dodging cutlass swipes and pistols, he ran over to the animal's side and listened to her heart. The man was astonished to hear a soft thumping rhythm within her chest.
"How on earth does she do it?" Victor pondered aloud.
"Ay?" Jack Sparrow was standing over them both.
The man no longer considered which side anyone was on. "Lassie! She's still alive."
The pirate rolled his eyes. "Wish she were still dead," he muttered.
Now Victor was the one giving the odd look. "Still dead?"
"She should've kissed the other side of the dirt a number of times," Jack Sparrow noted aloud thoughtfully. "Bloody animal's an animal. Nothing will kill her. She just gets up and keeps going."
"I beg to differ!" Victor argued. He stole Jack's pistol and shot Lassie in the head.
Jack raised an eyebrow. "According to the grapevine, you're not exactly what one would call an avid fan of dogs."
Victor shrugged. "Oh, I liked this dog fine. But curiosity gets the best of me most days. I offer no resistance or defence on my own part for the matter."
"Fair enough," Jack answered.
The pair watched as the cursed animal staggered to its paws.
"It's alive!" Victor fumbled with the pistol and attempted to shoot it again, but he realised that he was out of shot.
"Allow me." Jack reloaded the firearm and handed it back to Victor, who cocked it. He was inquisitive to see how this scene ended.
Once again, even after Victor had peppered the animal's skull with bullet fragments and had done what should of killed Lassie a thousand times over, the damned dog still got up again.
"Why won't you DIE???" Victor grabbed the animal (which was growling profusely by now) and snapped its neck. He dragged it over to the side of the ship and flung it overboard.
"I doubt that bloody Lassie will die so easily," Jack commented as the two watched the limp object sink below the surface of the water.
Victor replied, "It solves our problem." Someone came up behind the unsuspecting man and stabbed him in the back.
"Ah, but it's highly unlikely that it will have solved that problem of yours," Captain Jack said, saluting the man staring back at him from the deck through sightless eyes.
The pirate stealthily snuck back into his stateroom, where the Captain of the Trident was waiting for him, pointing a pistol at his chest directly.
"Wonderful to see you again, pirate," the intruder said with a smile, his voice irritatingly painful to listen to.
Captain Jack Sparrow slowly raised his hands in the air, remarking, "Have you met the Captain of the Flying Dutchman? Perhaps you two could band together as a singing duo. I'm sure you'd both enjoy the experience."
Washed up on the island of the cannibals, a sodden Lassie shook herself, none the worse for the wear. Of course, the writer desired a happy ending, so she informed the natives (from a fair distance away) that a dog had arrived, a gift from their gods, to eat. So Lassie died after all AND DID NOT COME BACK TO LIFE!!!
Fin.