Dogs Are Gods

Canine divinity and folklore from ancient Egypt, Rome, Mesoamerica, and more

Mar 21, 2025

Dearest readers, my apologies for not posting in February. I had planned to share the following piece on dog gods and mythical canines, but the state of our country has filled me with anger and terror, to the point that talking about dog-headed gods just didn’t seem important or relevant anymore.

But there’s never a wrong or bad moment to learn and explore. Ignorance, after all, is the enemy of love and what we are seeing now is a tsunami of hatred, stirred up by greed and selfishness.

So, why dogs? Dogs’ dual nature (cuddly yet predatory, nurturing and aggressive, adorable but also disgusting) is why they manifest in mythology—sometimes as divine figures in their own right, or servants of the divine. In many pagan and ancient religions, paradox is everything, the “yuck” and “yum” of universal balance.

Photos by Jose de los Reyes, featuring Tiana Hunter and Maya Tihtiyas

Anubis, the Jackal-Headed God

Let’s begin with one of the most famous canine figures from mythology, the Egyptian god Anubis, who has the head of a jackal or wild dog. In ancient Egypt, wild dogs dug up graves that were too shallow. Being eaten by a scavenger was a horrifying defilement; the body should was supposed to be preserved to ensure a good afterlife. To balance this evil, Anubis was worshipped as “the dog who swallows millions,” the Master of Secrets, and the Keeper of the Keys of the Underworld. Anubis was also folded into the myth of Osiris as the god who invented mummification. And when Seth, the adversarial god, turned into a bull and trampled Osiris (Seth was always killing Osiris and rivalling Horus), it was Anubis who castrated Seth-as-a-bull, then forced him to carry Osiris’s coffin.

For the human dead, the ba (as of the New Kingdom, the ba resembled a person with the head of a bird) embarked on a fateful journey through the Duat, where Osiris, the god who died, was both king and judge of the dead. There were rivers, deserts, and lakes of fire in the Duat, plus demons and monsters, like the Crocodiles of the Four Directions. Anubis was there too, with an army of demon messengers.

Anubis became popular with Roman necromancers, who beseeched his help fetching gods and spirits from the underworld. Keeper of the Keys indeed!

Another god associated with mummification and death was Duamutef, a “son of Horus” and lesser but very important god, likewise jackal-headed. Yet instead of eating carrion, he protected the stomach and appeared as a mummy himself on canopic jars meant for internal organs. His role was integral to preserving the integrity of a body.

Photos by Jose de los Reyes, featuring Fan-Pei and Asia Abendroth

Descendants of Aeneas, Romulus and Remus are the fabled founders of Rome. Their father was Mars—Ares to the Greeks—the strong/petulant god of war. The twins were supposed to drown in a river, because politics (their grandfather was overthrown by his brother, and heirs = rivals), but instead they floated downstream and got rescued by a she-wolf, who suckled the boys until a shepherd came along. Once raised up by the shepherd’s family, the twins decided to found a city, but they quibbled over the details and, one way or another, Romulus killed Remus. Then he named the city for himself.

Xolotl, Aztec God of Death and Dogs

Xolotl (whose name most likely means dog/dogs) was an ancient Aztec god, a complex figure with competing associations, primarily concerning death and transformation. He was typically depicted as a dog or a wolf with a skeletal body, empty eye sockets (he cried them out), or sometimes backwards feet. Eesh! He could shapeshift, though, which endeared him to sorcerers and other practitioners of magic. In various myths, Xolotl transformed into an ear of corn, twin magueys, and the creature we now know—and adore—as the axolotl, who got its name from the god.

Xolotl was a psychopomp, a guide of the underworld, like Hermes; when you died, he showed you the way. (A dog might just as easily have served as your guide: if they could afford it, dogs were sacrificed to accompany the dead.) Xolotl also ushered the sun through the nine layers of Mictlan every night, a dangerous mission.

Dogs eventually became synonymous with Xolotl, hence the hairless dog breed known as the Xoloitzcuintli.

Photo by Jose de los Reyes, featuring Aleksa Slusarchi

Additionally, Xolotl played the important role of god of lightning and fire, earning the moniker the “Lord of Fire.” He was the god of twins as well; the revered feathered-serpent creator god Quetzalcoatl was his brother. Together, they represented the duality of life and death, the morning and the evening stars.

La Loba—the wolf woman—is a folkloric figure from Mexico who combs the landscape, gathering the bones of dead wolves. When she has a full skeleton, she sings the bones back to life.

Photo by Jose de los Reyes, featuring Eva Luna

Fenrir

Offspring of the Norse Trickster god Loki and a giantess, Fenrir was a monstrous wolf. Until the end of the world, he lingered, bound to a boulder by a chain made from a cat’s footstep, the beard of a woman, and other magical ingredients, with a sword for a bit in his mouth. When Ragnarok comes, he’ll be set free. His venom-spitting sea serpent brother Jörmungandr will also rise from the depths, triggering tsunamis.

Meanwhile, an army of the dead assembles—all the warriors of Valhalla, come to fight and die once more. Loki arrives at the battle in a ship fashioned from the fingernails of the dead. Yes, fingernails. Fenrir devours Odin, the All-Father, Master of magic. He also swallows the sun. Loki dies. Everything dies as the nine realms go up in flames. All is lost.

In one version, there’s a postscript: the world is reborn again. But some scholars argue that ending is a cheery Christian addition.

Cerberus

Last but certainly not least! A monster canine with anywhere from one to 100 heads, depending on the depiction, Cerberus is the Greek guard dog of the Underworld, ensuring none of the shades escape their realm. Hence Homer referred to him as “the hound of Hades.” Mostly he stayed at his post; the myths involving Cerberus tend to be about someone else’s quest. For example, when Orpheus lost his bride Eurydice to a venomous snake bite, he lulled Cerberus into submission with his sweet lyre-playing, then slipped into the Underworld. Capturing the dog was also one of Hercules’ 12 labors. The labors were acts of repentance for having murdered his family.

Though not a god, Cerberus is so ancient, scholars aren’t even sure where his name comes from, or exactly what it means. Hesiod claimed his parents were serpent monsters, the same who birthed the Hydra and the Chimera.

The Morrigan—battle-ready, Celtic triple goddess of war, fate, and all-around badassery—is a shapeshifter who likes to take the form of a raven. But sometimes, she appears as a wolf.

Beautiful. Powerful. Intelligent. Fierce.

Defiled. Unclean. Gross.

Canines are all these things, and more. And this dichotomy earned them their place in the eternal stories.