Argentineans Shower Dogs with Luxury While Birth Rate Dips

Fewer children and more dogs: that’s the new reality in Buenos Aires. As Argentina’s economic troubles deepen and young people opt to remain childless, many Argentineans are turning to fur babies for companionship—complete with birthday cakes, spa treatments, and lavish adoration.
A Growing Pet Passion
On a humid Saturday afternoon in Palermo, a black mixed-breed named Venus sat before a meat-flavored cake crowned with pink candles. Her human, café owner Victoria Font, applauded while friends snapped photos and sang an off-key birthday song. Font later told AP reporters that she considers Venus “like my daughter,” a sentiment that drew nods instead of raised eyebrows from onlookers. Such parties were once a curiosity; now they feel almost expected in a city where nearly eight of every ten households claims at least one animal companion, according to adoption surveys cited by the AP.
The surge in pet devotion has grown in lockstep with sliding fertility. Government health data show Argentina’s birth rate dropped 6.5 percent in 2023, the steepest annual decline in decades. School principals talk about half-empty classrooms, yet dog parks thrum with life from dawn to dusk. Language has kept pace: people who once spoke of “owners” now proudly call themselves “papás” and “mamás.” Thirty-four-year-old stylist Magalí Maisonnave explained the calculus bluntly to the AP: raising a child in today’s economy feels impossible, but lavishing affection on her dachshund, Sandro—complete with River Plate jersey and stadium outings—offers daily joy without decades of financial obligation.
Even residents who plan to have children admit dogs provide a rehearsal for parenthood. Dog-first households schedule vet visits as religiously as pediatric checkups and swap training tips like earlier generations shared baby food recipes. Psychologist Marcos Díaz Videla, who studies human-canine bonds, says the animals satisfy “a primal urge for family ritual” at a fraction of the cost and social pressure. His research suggests the emotional benefits are genuine: pet parents report lower loneliness scores and higher daily motivation during economic downturns.
The national conversation around population decline still stirs worry in some quarters, but the trend plays out in wagging tails and monogrammed leashes on city sidewalks. Buenos Aires appears content—at least for now—to let canines fill gaps once reserved for toddlers, even if demographers warn of longer-term consequences.
Economic Woes, Dog-Friendly Businesses
Argentina’s economy has long resembled a roller coaster, but the latest plunge has been especially jarring. Triple-digit inflation, rising rents, and shaky employment push big-ticket dreams—mortgage, marriage, multiple kids—beyond reach for many under forty. More minor indulgences, however, still feel attainable, and an entire industry has sprung up to catch those redirected pesos.
One beneficiary is Nicole Verdier, proprietor of Chumbis, the country’s first gourmet dog bakery. Inside her glass counter, “puppy canapés” sit beside chicken-liver éclairs dusted with dehydrated carrot powder. Verdier told the AP she opened the shop after noticing how quickly customers snatched limited runs of imported dog treats. “They’re living beings who don’t stay around long,” she said, arranging a tray of peanut butter bones. “During that time, you have to give them the best.”
Just across town, Guau Experience offers mud masks, blueberry facials, and paw pictures that can cost the equivalent of a week’s salary. Owner Lucía Marcone says clientele has doubled in two years, fueled partly by remote work: “Spending all day beside the dog makes people notice dry skin and overgrown nails. They want to spoil them.”
This retail boom has rippled into politics. City Councilor Emmanuel Ferrario recently introduced a bill to allow leashed dogs on the subway during off-peak hours and to certify professional dog walkers. “We aim to be the region’s most pet-friendly capital,” he told local radio, touting tourism potential. Skeptics argue the city should focus on childcare subsidies instead, but opinion polls show broad support for pet-forward measures.
The nation’s highest office may have given the movement a mascot. President Javier Milei, famed for brash libertarian rhetoric, adopted four cloned English mastiffs—each a genetic duplicate of his late companion, Conan—and refers to them as his “four-legged children.” According to AP coverage, the administration even restricted press access to information about the dogs, sparking playful conspiracy theories that more clones roam the presidential residence. Whatever the rumor mill suggests, Milei’s public affection mirrors a sentiment shared by millions: in uncertain times, dogs feel like dependable family.
Changing Family Dynamics
Carolina Morales and Alejandro Tirachini represent the newest hybrid household: human infant plus elder “fur-sibling.” Cradling four-month-old Benjamín outside a Recoleta café, Morales laughed about the transition. “Before he came along, Thay was our first son,” she said, motioning toward the golden mutt curled at her feet. “Now they’ll grow up together.” Pediatricians increasingly encourage such pairings, citing studies that dogs can boost children’s immunity and empathy.
Yet the life cycle of a pet forces confrontations with mortality sooner than most human families expect. That reality created another niche service: pet funerals. Manager Alicia Barreto meets grieving owners daily at Gardens of the Soul, a manicured cemetery an hour from downtown. She recounted to the AP one farewell where a violinist played “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” as mourners lowered a retriever named Messi into the ground amid white roses. “They come here because they can’t toss ashes in the trash,” Barreto said softly. “These animals were family.”
Concerns about Argentina’s shrinking youth population persist. Deputy mayor Clara Muzzio warned recently that “a world with fewer children is a worse world,” suggesting the pet boom is a symptom rather than a cause of economic malaise. Demographers note that sustained low fertility strains future pension systems. Still, many young adults say macro forecasts feel abstract compared with daily survival. “If I can’t afford a mortgage or a big wedding,” twenty-nine-year-old graphic designer Sofía Ríos told the AP, “at least my dog can have a lavish birthday.”
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Whether the current dog-centric lifestyle endures or recedes with economic recovery remains uncertain. Pets provide tangible comfort and a sense of agency for a generation that is squeezed by high costs and low confidence. Venus’s party ended with leftover cake boxed for canine friends and guests promising to book the same venue next month. As Font wiped frosting from the pup’s whiskers, she summed up the mood: “Maybe I don’t see kids in my immediate future,” she said. “But giving my dog the best life I can—that’s something I control, and it makes me happy.”
(Credit: Adapted from an Associated Press report; the AP initially gathered all quotes and interviews.)