At first glance, you might mistake the true-to-size bronze dog statue on Calle de las Huertas, in Madrid, as a real dog as you walk past it. It’s painted black with a white chest. Just sitting there. As if waiting for someone in a shop.

“He has a friendly and sly face befitting of a street dog,” said local historian Santiago Gomez. “And he’s where he belongs. This is his turf.”

That turf is a tiny park, where The World met Gomez. The bronze canine statue is intended to commemorate a beloved street dog that roamed the neighborhood in the late 1870s, when Madrid was a hub of art and intellectual thought. Literary salons and cafes were bustling with aristocrats and artists. One fine evening, a dog wandered into the thick of it.

The bronze canine statue is intended to commemorate a beloved street dog that roamed the neighborhood in the late 1870s.Gerry Hadden/The World

“The story goes that this stray dog crossed paths with a nobleman,” Gomez shared. “A Marques, who was out carousing with friends. The dog, looking for scraps, apparently made the Marques laugh by rolling over or performing some other dog trick.”

For his efforts, the dog got some grilled meat, his name, Paco, and, the legend goes, glory. Paco soon became a regular at the toniest joints in town. Gomez said the canine’s tastes up until then had primarily focused on leftovers, but then became refined.

“He began dropping in on the debates among the intelligensia, to go to the theatre, even the Royal Opera,” Gomez added. “He became quite bohemian. But since he was by nature from the streets, he was also drawn to the horses and to bullfights.”

Now, if this all sounds fanciful, well, it is. But there are press clippings from the time that document not only Paco’s existence but his adventures, too, like his antics in the bullring. At times, he’d jump in to harass the bulls, journalists wrote, leaping and running between the animals’ legs. And there’s further evidence of Paco’s adventures found in anonymous sheet music, archived in Spain’s Ministry of Culture, entitled “Paco the Dog’s Humorous Polka.”  

The World reporter Gerry Hadden poses with a true-to-size statue of Paco in Madrid.Gerry Hadden/The World

“Look, in the end, stories like this combine reality with legend — 150 years after the fact, nothing’s certain,” Gomez said. “The edges of Paco’s story have become blurred.” As has, over time, his place in Madrid’s collective memory.

Reporter Lucas Laursen went around to “Paco’s plaza” to ask what locals know about the rambunctious dog.

“I think Paco was a literary character from some book,” said a mom named Berta who was in the park with her son.

“All I know is that he was from this neighborhood, he was very sweet and people fed him,” said a young dad named Toni.

A story half-remembered, but kept alive by the little statue and a plaque with his name. Historian Gomez said that’s what bronze is all about.

“Why erect some enormous figure, say, of a giant bull or a God,” he said, “when you can have something much more humble and charming?”

Plans are underway in Madrid to construct two enormous statues, with backers actively seeking sites and funding. But it’s been pretty controversial. One statue will be an iron bull that’d be taller than the Eiffel Tower. The other … a towering figure of Christ that funders say will stand at 110 feet tall. Visitors will be able to enter the statue to see a gold heart.

As for Paco, himself, his own sense of grandeur may have been his downfall. One day at the bullfights, the story goes, he jumped into the ring, causing the matador to trip and fall. The crowd roared with laughter. The humiliated bullfighter ran Paco through with his sword.

Thus ended his life. Thus began the legend.