I'm in a car with other people. I'm sitting on the back seat along with two others, me being on the right side of the car, by the window. The person on the middle is holding a really small dog. When we look at it, it looks like a Dachshund, but something's wrong with it. It actually looks like a cartoon version of a Dachshund, with a long face and body, long, oversized limbs and, still, a small body - he could stand on the person's hand. It was like the dog's proportions had been completely messed up. Still, as cartoonish as it might sound, it was still real, and looked real. The dog's face was specially expressive, too. At some point, the dog seems to be pushing hard, so it's face twists into a cute expression of it.

We find it out too late that the dog was actually pushing because it was pooping. The person continues to hold it on the air, but positions his hand away so the poop won't hit him or the hand. It drops to the floor of the car, somehow strangely sandy and dry. Some time later, we arrive at some kind of farm (which I'd explore largely later, but have almost no recall of), where I remember talking to this guy wearing a motorcycle helmet. He was angry with the dog for pooping like that, and kept mumbling and complaining about it. His attitude reminded my father's regarding animals messing around things.