Life as a dog

The scent of brick, horses, manure and just grime fills your nose as you whine softly, waking up. You look around as you try to figure out what is going on. Horse drawn carriages, people in armor, and beast folk around you make you realize you are no longer in Kansas any more.

You get up clumsily as you try to figure out how to stand on all four paws... wait paws? Since when did you get paws? After a couple tries you manage to figure out how to walk a lot better and made your way to shop, looking at your reflection in a shiny armor inside. What looks back at you cause you to whine. No longer human, what looks back at you is a feral dog. The collar from the night before still on your furry neck. As you keep looking you try to figure out what breed you might be.