You stare at your reflection in the water for a few more seconds in absolute confusion. How is this possible? It can't be possible! Nobody just-...This isn't...How do hot dogs even do this?!
You've got to reverse this, if it's even happening. You turn your gaze away from the water after and decide that you're going to go back to the source and get this fixed. Even if you have to resort to force. You begin to walk back to the vendor's cart with a somewhat clumsy gait. Even if you're not the most graceful right now, the difficulties of walking on all fours as a dog haven't stopped your resolve. You're not going to sit around and pout about it. You're going to make sure that sneaky little vendor undoes all of this. Following your own, (human, you note bitterly) scent trail back to the vendor's cart, you pause, watching him. He seems to be preoccupied with another customer, and...Wait. If he did this to you, how many more...You shake the thought out of your mind. As you're making your way over, you suddenly have a sudden, but still surprising, lapse of consciousness. You felt like you weren't you, not a human who's been forced into the body of a malamute, but rather a natural-born one which has never been human. You balk. It seems like you might not have control of yourself if you stay as a dog forever. You can feel the other side of you, the canine side, seemingly attempting to win over your normal, human side. You're still in full control and for the moment, it doesn't seem like you're at any risk of giving in. You better get this over with as fast as possible, though. After the other customer departs with their meal, you race over and confront the vendor who did this to you. You begin barking angrily, which could be translated to
'How dare you do this! You have no right to just pull off this trick you-'
You proceed to start using certain choice words to express your displeasure, which would definitely get you punched in the face if the vendor could decipher your barking.
The vendor seems unimpressed or unfazed and simply leans against the cart with a smug look. After you stop barking, he chuckles. "All bark and no bite, literally."
You growl, not even remotely interested in hearing his smug commentary.
"You're probably demanding that I fix what's happened to you, ain't 'cha? Well, listen here, dog. I'm not going to help you out. You should always be cautious with street food," he smirks.
"You took the risk and now you deal with the end result," the vendor continues. "You think you're in a position to demand anything, but I couldn't be any less scared or worried about your threats. Heck, It'll just be a matter of time until you think no different than any other mutt. In fact, I could use a dog. You'd make a great pet for my kid."
You hate his smugness, his lack of care for your predicament, his indifference, which he probably has for all his customers, if they've been affected just like you. You growl again. You think about attacking him, wiping that smug look off his face as you do. But that wouldn't get you anywhere. He must have a way to reverse this, right? Maybe you should just back off, and find an opportune time to take him off guard and make him fix you. You're hit with indecision, trying to figure out which would be the best route to pursue right now.