I am amused enough by this passage in a short story I'm reading to retype it:
"People who change, change into all sorts of things. And every folk knows best the kind that most interests it. We've got an English and Central European tradition, so we know mostly about werewolves. But take Scandinavia and you'll hear chiefly about werebears, only they call em berserkers. And orientals, now, they're apt to know about weretigers. Trouble is, we're thought so much about werewolves that that's all we know the signs for; I wouldn't know how to spot a weretiger just by looking."
"Then there's no telling what might happen if I taught her The Word?"
"Not the least. Of course, there's some werethings that just aren't much use being. Take like being a wereant. You change and somebody steps on you and that's that. Or like a fella I knew once in Madagascar. Taught him The Word, and know what? Hanged if he wasn't a werediplodocus. Shattered the whole house into little pieces when he hanged and damned near trampled me under hoof before I could say Absarka! He decided not to make a career of it."
--the Compleat Werewolf by Anthony Boucher