ORIGINAL FICTION: "Dog Days, Part 2"

Part 1 is online here http://www.republibot.com/content/original-fiction-dog-days-part-1 and this is part 2:

Beauchamp woke up to find himself on earth, hallucinating that a dog was looking at him with the somewhat confused expression dogs sometimes get when they’re contemplating deep matters. He was disoriented, and confused, flat on his back, but he had to be on earth because the gravity was much heavier than on Mars, and he could smell plants in the air. How the hell did I get back here?, he wondered, how long have I been out? What…oh, yeah, the aliens in the dome…what the hell?
“Arrre you allrrright?” the dog asked. Its voice was entirely inhuman, but it seemed so perfectly what you’d expect a dog to sound like if it could talk that the oddness of it washed right over him for a moment. “I’m fine,” he said and raised an arm, then another one. “Well, that can’t be right – after all those months in low-and-no gravity, I should be weak as a kitten…wait a minute, did you just…uhm…speak?”
“Yes,” the dog replied.
“Well, now I know I’m hallucinating,” he said, “Excepting the gravity, of course that’s weird.” He looked at the dog’s head, hovering over him, looking pretty much like you’d expect a large dog – in this case, a black lab – to look, if you were holding it upright – big head, simple, non-expressive face, unusually soulful eyes, thick neck, narrow shoulders and thin arms, or more properly thin forelegs. He uncontrollably started laughing, and giggled out “Speak, boy, speak.”
“Cerrrtainly. What would you like me to speak about?”
“Must be a suit malfunction. I must be going giddy on bad air in the suit, that would explain everything excepting the gravity.”
“What is it about ourrr grrravity that concerrrns you?”
“Well – do you mind if I sit up?”
“Please, if you feel able,”
“Yeah, I am – obviously I’m hallucinating because first I saw aliens under a big dumb 50s science fiction movie dome on Mars, and then I crashed I think, and now I’m talking to a dog, but I seem oddly unconcerned that I’m probably suffocating or getting anoxia or whatever…” Here he grunted, and swung around on what seemed to be a doctor’s examination table, and was suddenly overcome with dizziness, “…whoa. That was weird.”
“Interrresting. You arrr dizzy, yes?”
“Yes,” his face flushed red, “If I had any food in me, I think I’d have hurled right there.” Sitting up, Beauchamp leaned forward to brace himself on his arms, his hands on the end of table.
“The otherrrs experrrienced similarrr disorrrientation upon arrrival,” the dog said, then turned to the side and barked some orders – literally barked – at another dog Beauchamp hadn’t noticed thus far in the corner of the room, then turned his attention back to the human, “The doctorrr has not had the opporrrtunity to inspect any of you in detail, but we believe yourrr species to be highly susceptible to corrrolis forrrce. The otherrrs seem to be adjusting rrrapidly, howeverrr. It may be easierrr forrr you if you trrry to avoid turrrning yourrr head.”
Beauchamp didn’t really hear any of this, however. He was gazing down, fixing his eyes on his dangling feet, trying not to throw up, then he noticed the dog’s leg next to his – well, that makes sense, he’s