Chicken Dog

I didn't have the heart to fully-read the story of how South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem put down her dog Cricket. It reminded me too much of an event in my childhood. 

One morning in Corrales, NM, in 1967, about 7 a.m., we all awoke to blood-curdling screams just outside my parent's bedroom window. Expecting the absolute worst, we discovered that our new dog, Ranger, had captured and was happily defoliating a bald, screaming chicken of all its feathers. We were aghast. The chicken soon died. 

In semi-rural Corrales, in those days, animals were still given free rein, and often kept outside at night. Bored dogs frequently roamed where they pleased. 

Having grown up in a rural household in the Depression, my father knew the iron rule of poor, rural life. Chicken-hunting dogs cannot be permitted to live. Rural families depended on their chickens and it was a hardship to lose them. To remain a member in good standing in the community, the dog had to go. 

I felt horrible. This was the Sixties, we had astronauts in space, but suddenly, before the sun had even fully-risen, we were back in medieval days, where animals were routinely beaten and life was very, very cheap. I don't know if Ranger was put down, or given away, but he was quickly removed - forever - from our lives. 

Someone like Kristi Noem, the kind of person who becomes a governor, doesn't live in the same universe as poor rural folks. Life is comfortable. These folks have enough resources to keep horses and if they lose a chicken it's not a hardship. Horses are more for dressage than plowing. 

For such a person to celebrate killing a dog (and dogs worship people) indicates either they esteem the worst of the bad old days too much, or that they are a psychopath; the kind of person that either enjoys the cruelty or feels nothing at all. Either way, such a person has no business being in high political office. It's just a very small step to delight in killing people.