Life was always the same for him.
Sitting on the ground, keys in mouth, watching the jailed pirates beckon him closer.
The closest one was reaching for him. The middle one had a bone, possibly from another prisoner. The furthest one had a rope.
Around them was carnage. There were other pirates, drunken pirates. And having invaded, they were now singing some kind of shanty as they looted Puerto Dorado.
He cocked his head and lifted his ears, debating whether to drop the keys. But ultimately sat his ground. The pirates were prisoners. And he was never going to move.
I just love this bit of Pirates of the Caribbean. I live for this part of the ride - the jailed pirates beckoning the dog and the dog not moving an inch.