Phantom Dogs of South America
Throughout the world, phantom dogs (or dog-like creatures) are scattered through the pages. From the protective Church Grim, to the Wulver, and, of course, all their meaner cousins in between. But tonight’s canine brings us to South America as we cover the myths of the phantom dogs of South America.
You might not instantaneously bring together Latin America and dog lore, but there are entire books on it (seriously). Notably, Phantom Black Dogs in Latin America by Simon Burchell. There are sightings across Latin America of black dogs, some of them protective spirits, others gods, and some…well, quite evil. For example, Tezcatlipoca, a god often compared to the devil, was believed to have been transformed into a black dog. It isn’t too surprising he ended up becoming a dog (or, at least, is associated with them) as he is often credited for having created the first pair of dogs.
To learn a little more about another canine myth, let us travel back to the Mesoamerican era several centuries ago. During this time, pre-European contact, there was a belief across the area that nahual, animal spirits, existed and were able to protect people (and even entire communities).
This brings us to the tale of El Cadejo. While different cultures have different ways to dell this story, usually it has the same three elements:
A traveler(s) at night
Two dog spirits (one black, one whie)
Protection and danger
Cadejos are typically described as being unnaturally huge dogs, with some stories claiming they are as big as a full-grown cow. But it isn’t just their size that sets them apart…they also have glowing red eyes and hooves instead of paws.
White cadejos have the ability to protect a traveler, whether they are drunk trying to get home, or someone who has been cursed and has an evil spirit following them. However, the black cadejos are not as helpful. They are said to lure people into the woods or influence them to make bad decisions.
If you ever bump into a cadejo, avoid speaking to it or turn your eyes away once it catches their gaze…either decision will scramble your mind and leave you insane.
One of the most infamous stories of the cadejo happened during the early 20th century. In Guatemala, Juan Carlos lived in a thatched in a country field near Los Acros. He worked quite far away and, one night, didn’t return home until midnight. His family would remain alone throughout the day. Often, when he returned home, he would notice a white dog in the field. But it always scampered away before he could catch it.
One day, he once again approaches the white dog in the field. He tried to scare it and interact with it, but it remained still. Even as he walked closer to it, it didn’t budge. Eventually, Juan grew curious (and bold) and got close enough to touch the strange dog’s paw. When he made contact, the dog’s eyes flashed open.
The dog spoke solemnly, “you do not need my help anymore.” Juan, stunned, responded with “What help?” and the dog replied, “I am a dog sent from above. My mission was to protect you. But you have shown me you do not need my help anymore.”
The white dog then closed its eyes again and died. Juan buried the dog and returned home. Each day he safely returned to his family he remembered the dog.
Like the Greeks, there was a belief that people were shepherds to the afterlife. Except, instead of hopping on a boat these people believed a dog (specifically, Xoloitzcuintle) was the one to lead you to the next life. It was directly associated with an Aztec god, Xolotl, who had the head of a dog and was the guide for the dead.
While these stories barely scratch the surface of dog myths in Latin America, I hope this sends you down new rabbit holes.
The blog image depicts Jardín Xoloitzcuintle en el museo Dolores Olmedo en la alcaldía de Xochimilco, CDMX. It is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0.
Thanks to Jenji for this astonishing suggestion for 2022’s blogstonishing.