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.
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