The dog was gray.
Maybe.
It was hard to tell through all the blood, dirt, and some slimy black ooze.
Lars tried to pick the dog up, but it yelped in pain.
Lars almost did too. His rib was on fire.
“Well,” he said kneeling down beside the dog “it looks like we’re both down on our luck.” He gently opened the dog’s mouth and poured a little Miller High Life on it’s tounge. “There ya go, boy.” He smiled and rubbed behind it’s ear a little “That’ll ease the pain and help you drift right off into a nice doggy-sleep.” He folded his hands together and sandwiched them between his head and the ground. “Which,” his eyes moved over to the dog laying down next to him “I could use a little of myself. Not doggy sleep, people sleep.” He closed his eyes and let slumber wave through his body like a black ocean.

When he awoke, the dog was gone.
His now-ruddy-red jacket was a few yards away, but his four-legged aqquaintance was M.I.A. “Huh…” he said getting up, noticing his rib was a bit sorer than it had been.