I'm in a house with a hardwood floor, and my dog Charlie is shuffling around underneath it, as if it were a deck like mine at home. Then he comes out, and apparently has scraped himself on a nail or something, and is injured.

His skin is split right on his rear haunch, where his leg meets his body; it is cut in a couple different ways, so I'm having trouble holding it together, and some fluids are leaking out. It seems that if I can't stop the fluids he will die. I yell for somebody to call an ambulance.

Then it seems I get distracted by some chocolate that I find, and when my attention returns, Charlie has become my nephew Phoenix, and he is lying on the floor, covered over in a blanket. In a panic I run to him and check his pulse - it's ok, he's alive, but where the hell is the ambulance? - and then through the window I see a fire truck pull up.