The prophet of pawprints and the king of debt: An Argentine-American love story

When Donald Trump returned to the White House—declaring himself both President and Chief Brand Officer of Western Civilization—he promised to restore “real leadership” to the Americas. “That means helping people who love me, especially the ones with great hair.”

Which is how Javier Milei, Argentina’s self-styled anarcho-capitalist savior and part-time dog whisperer, found himself in Washington, D.C., bowing before a gilded desk recently refurbished with gold leaf and steak-sauce stains.

Trump’s advisors—half hedge-fund managers, half the MyPillow board—had warned him that lending forty billion dollars to Argentina might look risky. (Yes, it is true that Trump wants to bail out Argentina with that huge sum in the middle of the government shutdown.) But Trump had a hunch. “I like this Milei guy,” he told Fox Business. “He’s got passion, electricity, and dogs that are basically economists. People love that. I might get some.”

For those who haven’t heard, before Milei’s beloved dog Conan died, he cloned it as several dogs, to which he has attributed different “specialties”: Milton is said to handle political analysis. Robert is claimed to help him “see the future” or learn from mistakes. Murray is linked to the economic domain. Conan the new clone is often described as providing general strategic counsel and medium/interspecies communication. None of this is a joke, making Argentina the only country in the world known to be effectively governed by dogs.

Milei arrived in his usual state of divine agitation, unruly hair defying gravity, gesturing with a Trump Bible in one hand and leashes in the other. Behind him padded his four cloned mastiffs, Argentina’s most stable economic team since former Peronist president Carlos Menem’s barber.

“Donald, querido amigo,” Milei began, collapsing like a lapdog into Trump’s embrace as cameras flashed. “You are the liberator of the free world, greater than San Martín, O’Higgins, and Simón Bolívar put together. Jointly, we will destroy socialism forever.”

Trump beamed. “Absolutely. And we’ll make a tremendous deal. Tremendous. You get forty billion U.S. dollars—real dollars, not those pesos you guys keep printing like coupons for empanadas—and you promise to name a boulevard after me in Buenos Aires.” I’ll sell you the naming rights for only $10 billion.

Milei hesitated upon learning that he would only net $30 billion from the bailout. “And if I call it Avenida San Donald de la Libertad?”

Trump’s face glowed. “Perfect. Has a religious feel. I’ll knock off one billion from the licensing fee. The evangelicals will eat it up.”

The meeting was proceeding smoothly until the mastiffs were invited to sit at the cabinet table. Milton (the political analyst) growled at the sight of a globe, Murray (the economist) sniffed at the dollar bills, and Robert (the visionary) stared into space, possibly seeing Argentina’s 28th default. They decided to mark their places simultaneously, which required specialized Argentinian diplomats to burn Chinese incense.

Conan’s portrait—hung beside a Renoir and a framed Trump University diploma—flickered with spectral static. “Beware of gringos bearing gifts,” whispered the ghostly voice through the Secret Service intercom.

“That’s fake news,” said Trump. “I’m the most generous creditor in history. Ask Deutsche Bank.”

“We have,” replied Conan.

In the final memorandum of understanding, the “Trump–Milei Freedom Loan” was described as a partnership between two visionary populists who reject the tyranny of arithmetic. The document promised forty billion dollars in “patriotic liquidity,” conditional upon Milei’s pledge to:

1. Replace the peso with “Trump Dollars” featuring the former president’s profile with a laurel wreath.
2. Privatize mate, tango, and the national anthem.
3. Erect a replica of Mar-a-Lago in Patagonia, to serve as both cultural center and tax haven.
4. Consult the mastiffs before any fiscal decision exceeding $100.

The licensing fee for Trump remained a secret side deal, but bands of untamed dogs smelled a rat. The IMF, perched in Geneva, issued a statement expressing “measured delight” that someone else was taking the fall this time.

Outside the White House, Milei and Trump faced reporters beneath an enormous banner reading MAKE ARGENTINA PAY AGAIN.

Trump spoke first. “This is a great day for hemispheric capitalism. I looked at Argentina’s books. Very sad. Worst books I’ve ever seen. But with my help—and Javier’s dogs, who are very, very smart—we’re going to fix it. Maybe even teach the IMF how to bark.”

Milei nodded vigorously. “We will never again submit to socialist tyranny. With these forty billion dollars we shall buy back our dignity, dollarize our souls, and build a statue of Conan in every province.”

A journalist asked how Argentina planned to repay the loan.

Trump smiled. “It will pay when Mexico pays for the wall.”

Back in Buenos Aires, the funds arrived by cargo plane, each crate labeled ‘Freedom Tranche #1.’ Within weeks, ten billion went to consultants, another ten billion to the slush fund for Trump, twelve billion to “stabilize” the peso (which promptly fainted), and the remainder to a new Ministry of Canine Economics––also a slush fund for the few politicians from Milei’s Liberty Advances party that made it to Congress.

Milton was named Deputy Minister. Murray ran the Treasury and started biting a lobbyists. Robert chaired the Ethics Committee by wagging its tail. Conan, ever the strategist, was appointed ambassador to the afterlife. All were assigned billion-dollar salaries through a dollar-denominated trust Milei would manage.

By month three, inflation had reached such transcendental levels that prices were expressed in cartwheels of cash. Milei reassured the nation that “hyperinflation is merely a temporary surge of spiritual liberty.” Trump reassured the American people that he was making sure communists like Joe Biden would never make a comeback.

Trump called to congratulate Milei. “You’re doing fantastic, Javi. The fake media says Argentina’s broke again, but that’s just part of the process. Bankruptcy builds character. Make sure to pet the dogs for me.”

When the forty billion evaporated into the Southern Hemisphere’s dry air, both men blamed the IMF, globalists, and “bad energy from socialist ghosts like Joe Biden.” Trump proposed another loan—this time including naming rights to the Andes as the Trump Mountain Range.

At a joint ceremony in Mar-a-Lago, the two leaders unveiled a commemorative plaque:

“In honor of the sacred alliance between human genius and canine foresight, which proved that when populism and delusion unite, the market always finds a new trick to teach an old dog.”

The mastiffs barked in approval. Milei wagged. Trump made sure all his hair was in place and smiled for the cameras.

Argentina, once again, defaulted in pesos and the United States defaulted on reality itself. Congress didn’t lift a paw.

Amaury Cruz is a writer, political activist, and retired lawyer living in South Carolina. He holds a bachelor’s in political science and a Juris Doctor. This article is from his Substack.