Here's to you, Guinefort

Valeria Espinal saw the body of Guinefort laying in the street. The dog's butchered body had been in the street for a little over a week now, yet the stench of rot and decay was suprisingly absent. If it was not for the roses, prayer cards, rosaries, and other momento moris, one could easily mistake the pooch was just asleep, basking in the Dominican Republic sun. Valeria saw that one of the prayer cards said "Vaya con Dios, Guinefort." She sucked her teeth.

"I heard the county is getting someone to pick up the body today." A deep voice said behing Valeria. She looked up and saw a young, dark skinned man towering before him. He had a white t-shirt and purple drawtring shorts. In his hand was a bag filled with various goods, with a fly-whisk sticking out of it. "And a good thing too! Poor dog. Did you see what happened to him?"

Valeria nodded and replied "Yeah. He was my dog."

You are going to hear many stories about Guinefort, especially the story of his last few moments of life and the beautiful miracles attributed to him. But I tell you the story of the dog I knew: that stray puppy my father found one summer night.

My father came home that evening unusually late. When he walked through the door, my mother was ready to chastise him, but stopped suddenly, as though she was taken aback.

"Where did you find him?" My mother asked.

"Underneath the staircase a few blocks down. A couple of the neighbors were trying to goad him out of a hole he was stuck in. Took us almost two hours! They said I did most of the work, so I had the right to keep him."

"Are you gonna keep him?" My mother asked curiously.

"Do you want to keep him?" My father responded. "I think we can feed another mouth in this house."

My mother thought for a second. "I mean, we might as well keep him."

Now I was in the kitchen, too preoccupied with drawing Saori Kido from Los Caballeros del Zodiaco to pay attention to what my parents were talking about, childishly unaware of the blessing that had just entered my home.

The next day was when I met Guinefort.

He was clearly a mutt of indeterminate origin (my guess was that he at least ten percent pit bull and maybe fifteen percent samoyed). He had these mangled, pointed ears and brown, scruffy fur. His tail was gone and in its place was a stump, which was wagging profusely at the sight of me. That tail never seemed to stop wagging, until the end...

Mami was still asleep and I went to go get a bottle of water. So now it was just me and Guinefort. Now of course he was not called Guinefort then. He was just a nameless mongrel that my father had just found. He walked up to me and, I had to admit, it made me wince. I had never seen a dog that close to me before, and I thought he might bite my face off if I made one wrong move. Yet instead of feeling his cruel, viscious bite, I felt his warm tongue across my face. It felt... oddly satisfying.

I gently patted his head and he gave me this big goofy smile (yes I am aware that dogs do not "smile" when they pant. To me, him panting was a smile). I got my water and took my new friend into my room.

Later that day, my father came home from work and gave our dog the nom de guerre of Guinefort. The inspiration, he expained to me and mama, was a conversation he had with a Pentecostal co-worker at the factory. His co-worker went on about how those moronic Catholics had dogs who were also saints, and that this not only one of the many faults of Catholism but an affront to God Himself.

My father asked for such an example. His co-worker responded with "Well, there is the supposed "saint" Guinefort who is the supposed protector of babies. Can you believe that? Those fools believe that dogs can protect babies? As though our Lord God can't protect them? The nerve of those heathens!"

"So I picked the name Guinefort." Papi concluded. "Just to spite him."

Mami looked at Papi and then looked down to Guinefort, who was smiling and wagging his tail. She shrugged "I think it is a wonderful name.'

And so the years past. I grew into an impressively strong, young lady (or so everyone tells me). I grew taller than Mami at 172 centimeters and combined with Papi's strong frame, our neighbors and family friends had dubbed me "The Amazonian." Guinefort also grew into a strong, impressive hound. He still looked a bit mangy, but was now more muscularly built. He was a giant of a dog and he was almost as tall as me standing on his hind legs! Everyone on my street loved Guinefort. Well almost everyone.

You see, Guinefort loved children. Especially babies. And he would do anything for them. Mothers would actually leave their newborns and toddlers with Guinefort because they knew they were in safe hands. This, naturally, led to his downfall. As the saying goes, no good deed...

One of my neighbors, Mayra, had just given birth to a beautiful baby girl a few months ago. Now, Mami hated Mayra due to a very offensive slight Mayra had made towards her many years ago, just right after I was born. What the slight was, Mami would not tell me. And ultimately, it is unimportant to the story. Mami did not like Mayra, plan and simple.

A little over a week ago, Mayra came to the house, baby in tow. I had just gotten out of my last day of middle school, so I was still in uniform. She had asked if Guinefort and the rest of the family could watch the baby for half an hour or so while she went to the market. Mami (according to what she would later tell me, a while after Guinefort's great absence) was going to tell her to fuck right off out of her house, but Papi responded "Of course! You know how much Guinefort loves kids."

Now again, I never truly understood why Mami hated Mayra so much, so I did not see the harm in watching the baby for a while. Mami looked at Guinefort and then back to Mayra. "Make it quick." She hissed at Mayra. And so Mayra's baby was with us and for a while, all went well.

However, not long after Mami went up to do some chores and Papi went out to run a quick errand, Guinefort started to bark at the baby's carriage. I had quickly gone to the fridge to get some mango juice, so I did not see what had gotten into the baby carriage. When I came back, as I saw that Guinefort was still barking. Me, being ignorant as Adam, thought that Guinefort just wanted to see the baby. So I was going to oblige him and take her out, when Guinefort lept his snapping maw into the carriage. I heard him clamp down on something and the baby began to cry out furiously.

"On my god." I heard a shrill voice cried at our door. I turned around and saw Mayra and her husband, Manual staring in horror. Mayra had a few groceries in both her arms. Manual had his trusty machete.

It was at this time my mother came to see what all the commotion was about. She saw the baby carriage, blood on Guinefort's snout, and came to the same conclusion we all did: Guinefort had just killed a child.

"Oh shit." I heard my mother muttered as Guinefort ran out the door. I began to chase after him but Manual got to him first. They were in the street now, where everyone could see what was going.

"Get him, Manual!" Mayra cried out. "Kill that bastard dog!"

"No!" I cried out. "Please don't hurt him!" I tried to get between him and Guinefort, but my father (who had conviently arrived) scooped me away. No one was there to help him now. My brave boy held his ground, growling and occasionally snapping at Manual. But my Guinefort's luck ran out, and with one hefty cleave, Guinefort...

I stood there, eyes watering and fists clenched. Why would Guinefort snap ike that? What devil would possess my boy to harm a child? And then I heard my mother cry out "Mayra, come look at this!" In Mami's arms was Mayra's baby, unharmed. In the baby's hands was a dead snake, holding it up like a miniature Mami Wata. There was an akward silence between the us now. A group of people were gathered outside now, just to see the drama unfold.

Both Mayra could utter a defense, something just snapped inside of my head. My fist slammed into Mayra's face. "You fucking bitch!" I cried, tears streaming down my face. My fists collided into her face with each word. "You fucking whore! My dog is dead because you! No wonder Mami hates your fucking guts, you fucking bitch!" It took Papi, Manual, and three other men to pry me off of her. Rumor had it I knocked out one of her teeth.

I ran to Guinefort's body, carefully avoiding the pool of blood that started to form around him. I closed his eyes and held him tightly. "Te amo, Guinefort." I whispered. "I'm sorry I could not save you." People in crowd, especially children Guinefort had watched, were crying, some were praying. Others just watched solemnly. My parents picked me off the concrete and took me home.

You all know the rest. Not soon after that, the miracles happened. There hasn't been a snake in the neighborhood since, children saved by speeding cars by a four-legged spectre. Pictures of newborns developed with a dog-like spirit curled up next to them, just like he would have done with them in life. My dog was amongst the divine, with talks of him reaching sainthood. And I don't give a shit.

The man who she had told the story to was taken aback. "What do you mean by that?"

She turned to him and growled "I don't give a fuck if he becomes a saint. I am glad that even in death, he is watching over and taking care of everyone. But I need him here with me! Making him a saint or whatever the fuck isn't gonna bring him back to us!"

The man nodded. "I understand. But look at this way; sometimes we are called to a higher purpose when we pass on. Who's to say that that doesn't go for our dogs as well?"

Valeria took a deep breath. She wiped away her tears and looked down at the spot where Guinefort was slain. For some reason, she could not picture his body laying there but rather him happy and alive, his stump wagging like it always did. The thought made her grin from ear to ear.

"Oh yes!" The man exclaimed as he started digging through his bag. "I know this isn't much but since I am here..." He handed her a rainbow bracelet. "I sometimes make jewelry to sell but you can have that one for free."

Just then, the city workers came by to pick up Guinefort's body. The man looked to Valeria and said "God bless you and your family." He then walked away. Valeria stood behind and watched them to take Guinefort away.

"Coño," one of them remarked. "He still feels pretty warm."

Late one summer night, Valeria's father was speed walking home with a beer in his hand. A couple of the local men offered to buy him a round of drinks after work. Each of those men had Guinefort watch their children when he was alive and wanted to repay him.

As he was a block away from home, Valeria's father could hear a series of low yelps. He looked down and saw a puppy, a brown haired mutt with mangled ears and a stump for a tail. The tail began to wag when the two of them locked eyes. He picked up the dog, carefully scooping him up with his one freehand. He looked around, seeing if someone left a dog. In the distance near his home, he could see a dog about Guinefort's size. But as he walked a little closer, it seemed to fade away into the Dominican night.

Valeria's father cried a little, but then started to laugh.

"Here's to you, Guinefort, you faithful hound." He toasted to his deceased four-legged family member, drank the last of his beer, and walked home to show his family their newest miracle.