St. Guinefort, the Dog Venerated as a Saint

iStock
iStock

For hundreds of years, residents in the Dombes region of eastern France worshipped a saint who was said to help protect infants from illness and danger. They prayed to his name, and brought sick infants to his shrine for healing.

Such tales aren't very unusual for a saint—except this one was a dog.

According to a legend that originated some time before the 12th century, St. Guinefort was a greyhound owned by a wealthy knight. One day, the knight and his wife left their infant son for the day in the care of his nurse and their loyal dog. They returned to find a scene of carnage in the child’s nursery—the crib overturned, and blood spattered around the room. Guinefort had blood smeared all over his muzzle.

The knight, believing that Guinefort had killed his son, struck the dog with his sword, killing him. Immediately afterward, he heard the cry of a baby and found his son, healthy and whole, underneath the overturned crib. (It's not clear where the nurse was during this time, but she evidently wasn't doing a very good job protecting the child.) Next to the baby was a snake that had been bitten to bloody pieces.

The knight realized that he had killed the dog unjustly—Guinefort had in fact protected the baby. To make amends, he buried the dog in a well and planted a grove of trees around it as a memorial.

As the story of the brave and loyal Guinefort spread, people began to visit the well and brought their sick children there for healing. There are reports of women leaving salt as an offering, or placing children in the grove with lit candles overnight in hopes they would be healed by morning.

These local rituals had continued for about a hundred years when a friar named Stephen of Bourbon heard of the legend and the local custom [PDF]. He declared that the veneration of a dog was heathen—the people who were asking for intercession from the saint were really invoking demons, he said, and the women leaving their children at the shrine overnight were trying to commit infanticide. He had the dog’s body dug up and burned, and the trees cut down.

But the cult of St. Guinefort lived on, and the locals continued to pray to him. A folklorist found that the well and grove still existed in the late 1870s, while a historian discovered evidence that people were still venerating the dog-saint after World War I. Reverberations of his legend—that of a dog-healer living in the forest—seem to have lasted as late as the 1960s.

A stylized illuminated manuscript-type illustration of a greyhound
Wikimedia // Public domain

St. Guinefort was never officially recognized as a saint by the Roman Catholic Church—or anyone else. In order to recognize someone as a saint, the Vatican requires evidence that the person led a holy life and performed miracles. (They also usually require evidence that the individual was human.) But the legend of St. Guinefort dates to before this process of sainthood was formalized, when individuals of great holiness were often spontaneously acclaimed by the people in their local areas.

As it turns out, the Guinefort legend has parallels around the world. There are similar legends elsewhere in Europe and beyond of loyal dogs that are killed after being accused of endangering a child they had in fact protected. One legend from 13th century Wales concerns a dog named Gelert, who saved a child from a wolf but was killed when his master misunderstood the bloodied scene (and thought he'd killed his child instead of the wolf). There is a more modern echo of the story in the film Lady and the Tramp (1955), when Tramp defends a baby from a rat and is hauled off by the dogcatcher for his trouble. In India, a similar story is told about a woman who kills a mongoose who has defended her son from a snake; in Malaysia, the protector is a tame bear who defends a child from a tiger. Folklorists think the tales are told as a caution against acting too hastily in the heat of the moment.

By some accounts, August 22 is St. Guinefort's feast day (although this may be a confusion with an earlier, human saint). And while there's no official dog saint, if you need heavenly intercession for any canine problems, the patron saint of dogs and dog owners is St. Roch—who is also the patron saint for those, like Guinefort, who were unjustly accused.

Scientists Find Fossil of 150-Million-Year-Old Flesh-Eating Fish—Plus a Few of Its Prey

M. Ebert and T. Nohl
M. Ebert and T. Nohl

A fossil of an unusual piranha-like fish from the Late Jurassic period has been unearthed by scientists in southern Germany, Australian news outlet the ABC reports. Even more remarkable than the fossil’s age—150 million years old—is the fact that the limestone deposit also contains some of the fish’s victims.

Fish with chunks missing from their fins were found near the predator fish, which has been named Piranhamesodon pinnatomus. Aside from the predator’s razor-sharp teeth, though, it doesn’t look like your usual flesh-eating fish. It belonged to an extinct order of bony fish that lived at the time of the dinosaurs, and until now, scientists didn’t realize there was a species of bony fish that tore into its prey in such a way. This makes it the first flesh-eating bony fish on record, long predating the piranha. 

“Fish as we know them, bony fishes, just did not bite flesh of other fishes at that time,” Dr. Martina Kölbl-Ebert, the paleontologist who found the fish with her husband, Martin Ebert, said in a statement. “Sharks have been able to bite out chunks of flesh, but throughout history bony fishes have either fed on invertebrates or largely swallowed their prey whole. Biting chunks of flesh or fins was something that came much later."

Kölbl-Ebert, the director of the Jura Museum in Eichstätt, Germany, says she was stunned to see the bony fish’s sharp teeth, comparing it to “finding a sheep with a snarl like a wolf.” This cunning disguise made the fish a fearful predator, and scientists believe the fish may have “exploited aggressive mimicry” to ambush unsuspecting fish.

The fossil was discovered in 2016 in southern Germany, but the find has only recently been described in the journal Current Biology. It was found at a quarry where other fossils, like those of the Archaeopteryx dinosaur, have been unearthed in the past.

[h/t the ABC]

These Are America's 50 Most Rat-Infested Cities

iStock.com/Pierre Aden
iStock.com/Pierre Aden

New York City, home to the subway pizza rat, is surprisingly not America’s most rodent-infested city. That dubious honor goes to Chicago, according to a new analysis spotted by Thrillist.

A breakdown of the “50 Rattiest Cities” in the U.S. has been compiled by Orkin, a pest control service with locations across the country. The company tallied up the number of commercial and residential rodent treatments it carried out in each city over a period of 12 months (September 15, 2017 to September 15, 2018) and then ranked them. While the evidence is anecdotal, as it comes from just one company, it does reveal the areas where rat exterminators are in high demand.

This is the fourth year in a row that Chicago has been named the country’s rattiest city. Orkin isn’t the first to notice the city’s rodent problem, either. In July, Chicago was reportedly dubbed the “rat capital of the U.S.” by apartment search service RentHop. It reportedly received more rat complaints than any other city last year—nearly 51,000 total. According to RentHop’s analysis, New York City came in second place, followed by Washington, D.C. and Boston.

That isn’t too far off from Orkin’s latest analysis. New York comes in at third place, just after Los Angeles, and Washington, D.C. is fourth. The biggest boom in rat populations was seen in Portland, Maine, which jumped 19 spots from last year. Chance Strandell, residential service manager for Maine Pest Solutions, told New England Cable News that milder winters may be extending the rats’ breeding period. However, it’s unclear why rats seem to be multiplying in Maine in particular.

One pregnant rat can birth up to 12 babies in a single litter, and those pups can begin reproducing at just two months old. “So after a year, a busy pair of rat parents can have 15,000 descendants,” reports KATU in Portland, Oregon (number 24 on Orkin’s list).

Charleston, West Virginia, has also been teeming with rodents, having risen 17 spots from last year. Check out the full list of the 50 most rat-ridden cities below—and if you have musophobia (a fear of rats or mice), you may want to plot your move to one of the cities toward the bottom of the list.

1. Chicago, Illinois
2. Los Angeles, California
3. New York, New York
4. Washington, DC
5. San Francisco, California
6. Detroit, Michigan
7. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
8. Cleveland, Ohio
9. Baltimore, Maryland
10. Denver, Colorado
11. Minneapolis-St. Paul, Minnesota
12. Dallas-Fort Worth, Texas
13. Boston, Massachusetts
14. Seattle, Washington
15. Atlanta, Georgia
16. Indianapolis, Indiana
17. Miami-Fort Lauderdale, Florida
18. Hartford, Connecticut
19. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
20. Cincinnati, Ohio
21. Milwaukee, Wisconsin
22. Charlotte, North Carolina
23. Houston, Texas
24. Portland, Oregon
25. Columbus, Ohio
26. San Diego, California
27. Raleigh-Durham, North Carolina
28. Buffalo, New York
29. New Orleans, Louisiana
30. Norfolk, Virginia
31. Richmond, Virginia
32. Albany, New York
33. Kansas City, Missouri
34. Portland, Maine
35. Nashville, Tennessee
36. St. Louis, Missouri
37. Sacramento, California
38. Greenville, South Carolina
39. Grand Rapids, Michigan
40. Phoenix, Arizona
41. Orlando, Florida
42. Tampa, Florida
43. Burlington, New York
44. Champaign, Illinois
45. Rochester, New York
46. Syracuse, New York
47. Charleston, West Virginia
48. Dayton, Ohio
49. Memphis, Tennessee
50. Flint, Michigan

[h/t Thrillist]

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