“Based on the Incredible True Story.” So begins the trailer for the film Arthur the King, starring Mark Wahlberg, Simu Liu, Nathalie Immanuel, and Ali Suliman. It’s presented as a heartwarming narrative about a scruffy stray dog and an endurance athlete who cross paths during an epic adventure race through the Dominican Republic. This powerful tale, shared in three different books and numerous languages, has already captivated millions. The film’s poster highlights the story’s core appeal: an unexpected encounter, an unlikely bond, and an unforgettable adventure. The narrative speaks to perseverance, sacrifice, the profound connection between humans and their canine companions, and the inspiring notion that an ordinary person can become a hero by “saving” a vulnerable being. Yet, as audiences eagerly anticipate the film, many wonder: is the movie dog based on a true story, and if so, what is the whole truth? This article delves into the layers beneath the polished surface of this “incredible true story,” revealing other truths that often go untold.
By a remarkable coincidence, I possess some of these less-publicized truths. The real “Arthur,” it turns out, originates from a village in Ecuador (not the Dominican Republic), a place where I have conducted ethnographic fieldwork for more than two decades. In stark contrast to the film’s portrayal, I knew Barbuncho—his original name—not as a stray or an abused animal. He was a cherished farm and jungle dog who delighted in exploring cacao and coffee fields, and frequently accompanied visiting doctors and tropical ecologists on their jungle expeditions. He brought immense comfort to his owner, Esteban (a pseudonym), following Esteban’s divorce. Esteban even penned ballads in the dog’s honor, celebrating his deep companionship. A year after Barbuncho’s “disappearance,” Esteban’s grandson poignantly remarked, “I really miss our dog. Why do gringos come here and take our dogs away?” His comment alluded to other instances where foreign volunteers had adopted local dogs and taken them home, though typically with the community’s explicit consent. The public’s desire to understand the real stories behind animals in popular media often leads to questions like, is the movie dog based on a true story? This particular narrative, however, holds complexities that challenge simple answers. For those interested in real-life dog inspirations for movies, the story of Arthur offers a unique and thought-provoking perspective on authenticity and representation.
What are the underlying sociocultural forces that make a story feel believable to a global audience? Why have so many people—across diverse corners of the world, including Ecuador itself—become so invested in these fictionalized versions of events? So much so, in fact, that any minor attempt to correct the narrative has met with charged accusations of abuse and even threats of violence and lynching. This intense backlash vividly illustrates the emotional sentiments and deeply ingrained worldviews that shape what we choose to believe or disbelieve, and how the contours of deception can become firmly established. As I’ve explored elsewhere in a piece co-authored with students, this particular story of “saviorism” draws its immense power from the long and often painful legacy of settler colonialism, white supremacy, and racialized forms of both symbolic and structural violence. By shedding light on the dynamics of truth and self-deception within the Arthur story, we can better understand how racism and coloniality persist and gain traction, even through seemingly simple tales that resonate with our desire for heartwarming stories about dogs helping humans.
Mikael Lindnord with Arthur, the movie dog, in Ecuador, reflecting the 'true story' narrative.
Barbuncho, The Dog Behind the “True Story”
Back in 2014, my heart skipped a beat when I began reading a widely circulating article about a “stray” dog who “adopted a team of Swedish trekkers in the Amazon.” The story recounted how, after being fed a meatball, the dog had followed Mikael Lindnord and his teammates on an arduous trek through deep mud, dense jungle swaths, and multiple river crossings. It was a fantastic story, yet it felt eerily familiar to me. Then, I saw the accompanying photo of the dog in the PRI article: it was unmistakably Barbuncho, the cheerful, often mud-splattered canine who never missed an opportunity to embark on a lengthy adventure through the reserve where I had worked intermittently since the early 2000s. As it turned out, the adventure racers were not actually near the Amazon; despite the perceived similarities in the jungle-like atmosphere, they were operating on the Ecuadorian coast. The question of whether the movie dog is based on a true story quickly becomes more intricate when confronted with these personal connections and geographical discrepancies.
At this point, I contacted my friends in Ecuador, and Esteban confirmed that his beloved dog was indeed missing. He found it profoundly strange that there was such a global fervor surrounding a dog simply tagging along on a trek, as this was precisely what Barbuncho always did. Barbuncho frequently followed others through the jungle—often foreign volunteers, sometimes even Swedish ones like myself—but he invariably returned “home” to the main village eventually. With its vast rainforests, breathtaking waterfalls, challenging muddy trails, and abundant wildlife, this entire region was Barbuncho’s natural playground. We knew him to join whoever embarked on the most daring escapades, whether it was a team of tropical biologists studying the reserve’s fauna, medical volunteers conducting health campaigns, or Esteban himself while hunting for paca or agouti. Furthermore, Barbuncho enjoyed multiple “homes,” much like his owner, splitting his time between a biological station, Esteban’s farm, and a small house in a densely populated village. If Esteban departed from one of these locations and Barbuncho chose not to follow, other family members or friends would readily step in to feed him and ensure he stayed out of trouble. This communal safety net, which provided crucial support for animals, children, and the elderly alike, was one of the aspects I most cherished about this community. To those of us who truly knew the dog, Barbuncho absolutely loved his freedom, even if it meant a bit of a messy, adventurous life.
Correcting the Narrative of the Movie Dog’s True Story
As soon as Esteban confirmed the dog was Barbuncho, he requested that I contact Mikael Lindnord to inform him that the dog he was preparing to fly across the world did, in fact, belong to someone else. (My Ecuadorian friends all expressed surprise that Lindnord never considered asking anyone whose dog it might be; everyone in the community knew Barbuncho.) Esteban had been at his farm, a place without electricity or internet access, and was initially unaware of the widespread media attention. He was concerned about not speaking English or Swedish (both languages I happen to speak), and he didn’t have social media on his phone at the time, communicating with me solely via WhatsApp. While I understand that Lindnord was likely surprised and perhaps worried upon receiving my Facebook messages, especially given the extensive press coverage he had already garnered, he responded by raising concerns about animal abuse, even insinuating that I might be complicit. My attempts to explain rural life, the context of poverty, or culturally different standards of pet-keeping were met with ridicule and detailed descriptions of Barbuncho’s back wound (from a tussle with another animal), his poor teeth, and the presence of parasites. When I relayed these accusations to my friends in Ecuador, they simply laughed, responding, “Why is it such a big deal that Barbuncho had parasites and a wound? We all have parasites, machete wounds, infections, all of it. We’re poor and we get hurt while working the fields, producing cacao and all these products for all of you in the rest of the world.”
I wrote to multiple news outlets attempting to correct the story and present the full context of whether the movie dog is based on a true story, but my efforts were largely dismissed. Admittedly, I expressed my frustration quite vocally on social media, only to have people insist I was an animal abuser or, at best, an agua fiesta (a buzzkill). I anticipated my position would be unpopular, but I did not expect it to be so utterly unbelievable to so many. Most striking were individuals who acknowledged the unfair villainization of rural, poor people of color on Ecuador’s coast and the blatant disregard for their lives and truths, but who ultimately didn’t care because it was such a “great story.” It seemed to matter little that this narrative of possession was made possible by a longer history of dispossession, central to settler colonialism itself. In the end, Barbuncho successfully made it to Sweden, to much fanfare, and Lindnord proceeded to establish a home for him and launch a long career based on this fortuitous event ten years prior. Coinciding with the film premiere in late February 2024, Lindnord also announced the release of a children’s book in four languages, Young Arthur, which presumably details for children the trials and tribulations of Arthur’s early life in the jungle before Lindnord “met” him. This perpetuates a simplified version of the movie dog’s true story, especially for young audiences. For readers interested in diverse portrayals of dogs, there are many films featuring dogs that explore a wide range of narratives.
Colonial Minds and (Self-)Deception in the Arthur Narrative
The inconsistencies embedded within the evolving Arthur stories are remarkably telling. Not only do they highlight the perceived need for hyperbolic representations to make a story sufficiently captivating for Hollywood, but they also expose the often distorted lens through which the Global North views the Global South. For instance, Lindnord’s insistence that the dog was on the brink of death, despite Barbuncho’s demonstrated ability to follow them through extraordinarily challenging terrain for days, underscores a subconscious narrative of deprivation and suffering typically associated with the Global South. This narrative is further advanced when Lindnord characterizes rural life in the entire region with a broad brush, suggesting it inherently lacks any essential value for animals’ lives. The entrenchment of racist, colonial tropes becomes increasingly evident as Lindnord reflects on “how tough it must be to be a stray dog in this country, dependent on the kindness of strangers” because “some of the natives sure don’t show much kindness.” He employs age-old characterizations of rural people that dispossess and disenfranchise:
it has just never been part of the culture for some parts of Ecuador to regard animals with any respect. They are kicked, shouted at, beaten—people know that there are no laws to protect the rights of animals, and it is not a crime to mistreat them, so people mistreat animals and they let their children mistreat them.
For this very reason, he expands the scope of his initial “rescue” to encompass the entire culture: “Saving” isn’t merely directed at the dog with “all the diseases,” but rather at saving “all of the Arthurs of the world” from unkind “natives” everywhere. Under the auspices of The Arthur Foundation, which appears to no longer be active, Lindnord advocated for a carceral response with stricter punishment for animal abuse and mistreatment in Ecuador, with encouragement to implement similar laws globally. The concept of ideal pet-keeping in the Global North is often governed by law; an animal’s well-being is ostensibly ensured by stable homes with fenced yards, regular medical surveillance, and enclosed quarantines and doggie daycares (upon leaving Ecuador, Barbuncho lived in quarantine for his first four months in Sweden). This entire narrative heavily influences perceptions about whether the movie dog is based on a true story, selectively highlighting aspects that fit a predetermined heroic arc.
But Lindnord is not the only one who appears to be caught up in this hyperbole and colonial framing. The publishing industry and Hollywood readily follow suit. Barbuncho’s approximately 30-mile journey (as the crow flies) is often conflated with the team’s full journey, “over the course of ten days and 435 miles.” Or, as Mark Wahlberg recently reported on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, “this dog travels 500 miles” and “the racer is going to get disqualified from the race because of the dog, and the racer chooses the dog.” The Library of Congress subject heading for the book even lists Brazil and the Amazon River Region as keywords; in videos, Lindnord references being stared at by Indians in the Amazon and borrowing their Inca canoes (Ecuador’s coast is neither Amazonian nor close to any Incas). The movie itself has now been filmed in the Dominican Republic after a failed trial in Puerto Rico. Uproar among Ecuadorians regarding the setting and production of the film in the Dominican Republic prompted a (dubious) explanation on social media, with Lindnord attributing the choice to a need for COVID protocols while filming. However, I would argue that geographical distance from the actual home and specifics of Barbuncho’s life was fundamentally necessary to sustain the deception of (and perhaps legally protect them from) “the true story.” The obfuscation of place underscores the fact that what truly matters is that the backdrop is tropical, untamed, and supposedly befitting a place with “Natives” lacking civilized customs of caring for animals. In essence, the ambiguity of the context is fundamental; rural folk (or “Natives”) in Ecuador, the Dominican Republic, or Puerto Rico serve merely as a convenient foil through which the Global North can tout its own heroics and success. Such narratives often obscure the deeper reality of dog film true story origins.
Ecuadorians themselves are not entirely immune to these troubling colonial stereotypes. When Esteban was eventually located by the Ecuadorian press and openly acknowledged his ownership of Barbuncho, it triggered national petitions advocating for his imprisonment. These petitions gained considerable momentum primarily through urban elites from Quito and influential animal rights networks, effectively providing a public stage for the social media backlash against the entire rural interior. Barbuncho’s physical health—and the immediate, unquestioning acceptance that his health was a result of choice rather than the structural conditions shared by his community—came to powerfully represent a more general anxiety that rural and coastal Afro-Ecuadorians and mestizos were somehow holding the country back. The Ecuadorians who celebrated Lindnord’s “cultured” manner of pet-keeping did so to align themselves with a progressive notion of modernity, and they publicly denounced Esteban as a “national embarrassment,” offering apologies for their “less-cultured” country folk. Primitive representations were quickly swapped for savage ones; Esteban and people like him became implicitly branded as backward, barbaric, and abusive. The complex answer to “is the movie dog based on a true story” reveals itself through these deeply entrenched biases and cultural misunderstandings.
Doggie Desires: The Force Behind the “True Story”
For a small dose of self-deception, our collective reward is the joyous celebration of loyalty and friendship between humans and dogs, particularly when the narrative involves a dog so utterly determined to keep pace with his “best friend.” What’s more, we instinctively feel we deserve to feel good in a challenging world filled with tough news cycles and polarizing debates. Dogs, in this context, become the perfect object of salvation, allowing us to project our desires (and perhaps theirs) for uncomplicated companionship and loving relationships amidst the complexities of late capitalism. Interestingly, Lindnord and his enthusiasts consistently counter any and all skepticism about the story by insisting that he didn’t choose the dog; rather, “the dog chose us.” This pronouncement, they believe, should definitively end any debate. However, when asked what he would do if contacted by the dog’s actual owner, Lindnord emphatically stated, “I have microchipped Arthur. I am his owner.” This statement further complicates the question, “is the movie dog based on a true story?”
In its many deceptions, this “incredible true story” of Arthur ultimately reveals a deeper, more profound truth. The story holds such immense emotional force and public appeal precisely because of the delightful reward of a dog and the feel-good heroics it presents. Yet, the legend of Arthur remained almost entirely unquestioned because it is built upon a deeper, more incredible truth: a racist and colonial “common sense” that permeates our narratives. Within this logic, rural backwardness and tropical savagery serve to justify and amplify the North’s perceived civility and its natural claim to property. These deeply ingrained stereotypes do more than just misinform; they actively entrench harmful, savior-type ideologies that validate the North’s interference in the affairs of the Global South. In stories such as these, rural populations are systematically denied agency, often cast as villains, and their lives are overly simplified, ignoring the profound complexities and structural roots of their experiences. Ultimately, it is the heroism and the conquest that we are truly eager to see, not the continuous extraction and dispossession that make it all possible. It is, in essence, an age-old narrative. In the late capitalist Hollywood version, everyone who is important and visible stands to benefit: Lindnord, the dog, the film producers and cast, and the dog lovers of the world. The ultimate deceit, however, is that this win-win success implicitly depends on the moral and political disenfranchisement of Barbuncho’s people—his home, his family, and his entire community.
Conclusion
The question, “is the movie dog based on a true story?” elicits a far more intricate answer than a simple yes or no. While the film Arthur the King draws inspiration from real events, a deeper examination reveals a narrative heavily shaped by selective storytelling and profound cultural biases. The true story of Barbuncho, the dog behind “Arthur,” highlights a life of freedom, communal care, and deep connection within his Ecuadorian village, starkly contrasting the “stray and abused” portrayal often depicted. Attempts to present this nuanced perspective were frequently met with disbelief and resistance, illustrating how powerfully entrenched narratives of saviorism can be, particularly when they align with colonial tropes and Western perceptions of the Global South.
This analysis underscores that the public’s embrace of the “Arthur” narrative, while emotionally rewarding, inadvertently perpetuates harmful stereotypes. It demonstrates how media, publishing, and even well-intentioned animal welfare efforts can sometimes overlook or actively erase the complex realities of local communities and individuals. Understanding the full context of Barbuncho’s story is crucial, not only for appreciating the true bond he shared with his original owner, Esteban, but also for challenging the underlying “common sense” that allows such narratives of dispossession to flourish. As consumers of media, it is vital to question the narratives presented to us, especially when they claim to be “incredible true stories,” and to seek out the voices and perspectives that might otherwise be silenced. For more critical insights into media portrayals of animals, consider exploring different stories we tell about dogs.
Further Reading & Sources
- “Arthur the King.” IMDb, https://www.imdb.com/title/tt10720352/
- Aguilar, C. and Quintero, V. (2015). “Petición en internet por sanción a Vicente Quiñónez, ‘dueño’ de Arthur.” El Comercio, https://www.elcomercio.com/tendencias/sociedad/peticion-internet-sancion-vicentequinonez-arthur.html
- Lindnord, M. (2016). Arthur: The Dog Who Crossed the Jungle to Find a Home. Greystone Books. https://greystonebooks.com/products/arthur
- Lindnord, M. Instagram Post. Young Arthur, https://www.instagram.com/p/C30yPB3yPhj/?hl=en&img_index=1
- Lindnord, M. Instagram Reel. COVID Protocols Explanation, https://www.instagram.com/reel/C28aVrxNeMl/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==
- Lindnord, M. Official Website. https://www.lindnord.se/
- Lindnord, M. “Swim Arthur Swim.” Outpost Magazine, https://outpostmagazine.com/swim-arthur-swim-lindnord/
- O’Neill, B. (2014). “Stray dog adopts team of Swedish trekkers in endurance race in Amazon.” The World (PRI), https://theworld.org/stories/2014-11-24/stray-dog-adopts-team-swedish-trekkers-endurance-race-amazon
- “Racer Mike Lindnord and Arthur the Dog on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.” YouTube, https://youtu.be/PMAM0Rk0weo?si=2ZKcr2vHAzD7Wv-L
- The Arthur Foundation. http://www.arthurfoundation.se/
- The Local. (2015). “Stray dog Arthur moves in with Swedish owners.” The Local SE, https://www.thelocal.se/20150322/stray-dog-arthur-moves-in-with-swedish-owners
- Thorén, A. (2015). “Vändningen: Arthur har redan en husse!” Expressen, https://www.expressen.se/nyheter/vandningen-arthur-har-redan-en-husse/
- Thorén, A. (2015). “Why Did the Team Borrow Inca Canoes? Mikael Lindnord on the Arthur Story.” YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cy6169GuZYk
- West, S. (2021). “The Afterlives of Arthur: How a ‘Stray’ Dog Story Revealed the Ongoing Legacy of Colonialism in Pet-Keeping.” Journal of Latin American Anthropology, https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/19428200.2021.2087446
