When Monica Matute brought home a new foster dog, she didn’t expect a “wow-moment” to hit so fast.
But one afternoon, as she casually switched between English and Spanish while talking to her new furry housemate, it happened: the dog understood.
Not just a wag or a tilt—but a clear reaction. Monica realized her foster dog speaks Spanish.
Monica is a seasoned rescue-volunteer in Los Angeles—she fosters, rescues, advocates for shelters and the many dogs caught in the middle between being lost and being loved.
But the moment with this little dog—named Nacho—was different.
The video of that moment went viral. Viewers saw the puzzled tilt of Nacho’s head the first time Monica asked him, “¿Qué pasó?” (“What happened?”) in Spanish.
Then he jumped forward with enthusiasm when she followed it with, “Vamos afuera” (“Let’s go outside”). The Internet exploded.
Over ten million views, millions of likes, thousands of comments. “Our little Latin boy!” read one, “He must have been very loved.”
Monica doesn’t know the full back-story of Nacho. She doesn’t know who his former family was or how he came to shelter care.
But that day, she realized something profound: a dog carries memory. A dog carries identity.
And when you speak the right language—spoken or unspoken—the connection shifts. Nacho sat up straighter, followed commands, looked at her with recognition.
Suddenly, he wasn’t just a rescue dog. He was a rescued soul stepping back into being seen.
That shift also cracked wide open a bigger conversation.
The rescuers pointed out that in Los Angeles especially, many pets end up displaced when their families face immigration upheaval or housing instability.
Nacho’s reaction in Spanish stirred the thought: Maybe his first family spoke Spanish at home.
Maybe he was loved, then lost, then found—but somewhere inside he still carried his language, his comfort zone, his past.
Monica said: “It kept going back to the what ifs. What if his family was impacted by raids? What if he finally felt safe when I used Spanish?”
So what does this teach us? Two things: one, that fostering is more than “house-sit plus love.” It’s mental translation, emotional tuning, cultural intuition.
Two, that dogs are listening—in every language. The words are less important than the tone, the feeling, the inclusion. When Nacho heard Spanish, he heard home.
Monica now speaks about Nacho’s growth: he settled in within days, more confident, calmer, affectionate.
The community rallied behind him—not only for the adorable viral moment, but for what he represented: a rescue dog crossing language barriers, social assumptions, the “behaviour-problem” label.
And for the human fostering him: a rescuer looking beyond the kennel walls, noticing identity, connection, quiet cues.
If you’re ever wondering where hope hides: it’s in the dog who looks at you when you shift your voice.
It’s in the foster who notices that shift.
It’s in the moment when a rescue dog understands—and you realize you’re not just helping them—they’re helping you see.
