Puppy-killing Kristi Noem may have brought us together • Iowa ...

I dated a guy in college who grew up on a farm in southern Illinois — El Paso, Illinois, to be precise. The first time I visited his family, I was enveloped in a different world, stereotypical but wonderful in countless ways.

The house is what I think of whenever I read something about farm life. It was surrounded by acres and acres of flat land, with no nearby neighbors.

His mom and “sis” would prepare a noon meal, almost like the Gold Buffet restaurant offered in Winterset. Plates of pass-it-and-take-as-much-as-you-want food circulated two or three times. I imagine much of what was served came from the backyard garden before it reached the table.

After the meal, it was time for the “men folk” to return to work.

I loved them all: his mom, Norma, dad, Dallas, older brother, Chip, and sister, Diane.

On one visit, I discovered a baby raccoon whose fate would have been death had I, a city kid, not come along. My guy, John, explained that raccoons could devastate a corn crop, and the varmint had to be dispatched.

I insisted we take the baby, whom we named Rocky (of course), back to college. Dallas grinned at the idea, but as long as it was off the farm, he was OK with the outcome. The local grocer was kind enough to regularly give us produce that would have been thrown out to give to Rocky.

For weeks, the nocturnal animal grew and grew and grew, and my fantasy of having a playful, dog-like animal in the apartment over the town square was not to be. I also understood, eventually, that raccoons are not meant to be domesticated, and thus was my first lesson learned about the reality of farm life.

Rocky became snarly as he matured, and it was clear he yearned to be rid of this hippie nonsense. We called the local animal control officer, who released Rocky in the woods. That’s what I was told, anyway. I do not know how Rocky did without the daily helpings of browning cabbage, wormy corn, and rotting apples. Unlike the need for self-reliance in the wild, he could waddle up to his food without effort.

This preamble acknowledges that I am a city kid, as are many talking heads. Still, I also understand that life on a farm is more complicated than I once thought, and my horrified reaction to Noem’s confession of shooting her puppy in the face needed to be checked out.

When the story came to light, thanks to The Guardian, via an excerpt from the forthcoming memoir of South Dakota Gov. Kristi Noem, where she wrote that she killed a 14-month-old puppy by the name of Cricket, this tidbit from the book has dominated social conversations this week. The pup’s “crime” was that she hadn’t yet turned into the hunting dog she was supposed to be; plus, when the unleashed pup hopped out of the Noem truck during a visit with a neighbor, she destroyed some chickens. Perhaps because Cricket didn’t understand the nuance between hanging out with older dogs and humans, hunting pheasants wasn’t the same as hunting chickens.

This was the excuse the politician used to shoot the puppy in the head.

Noem must have calculated that the memoir, particularly that incident, would add to her contrived narrative as a leader willing to make tough calls and boost her chances of being picked as the GOP VP candidate. In response, other Veepstakers, even Ron DeSantis, have posted pictures of themselves with their dogs this week.

Twitter, now called X, is abuzz with dog photos. Noem is taking a lot of bipartisan incoming shame, even from GOP partisans who are otherwise mum when folks are mowed down by assault rifles while attending school, synagogues, concerts, shopping malls, and churches.

View from farm friends

Wanting to make sure I wasn’t oversimplifying this puppy murder story and falling into an urban/rural divide trap, I reached out to a few folks who have farming backgrounds to see if any of them thought the shooting of Cricket was justified.

The first call was to my college friend, the farm boy who became a psychologist and poet and now splits his time between a Chicago suburb and Florida. His name is Dr. John Schuler, and he has remained a constant friend all these years. I hope he completes writing some of the books he’s working on because I’ll be eager to share his work with you. Not only is he a farm boy at heart, but he is also a “spiritual being having a human experience.” He’s a Taurus and a slow-talking storyteller. The Taurus thing made much more sense as a descriptor when I was 19, but I digress.

John said life on a farm is more complicated than one might think. A raccoon loose in a field of corn could ruin a farmer’s slim margin. A runt in a litter of pigs could end up costing more than it is eventually worth, and pigs aren’t named Wilbur; they are a commodity raised for human consumption. Their life can spell the difference between losing money or making money— and nursing a runt could make the difference, so a slap upside the head with a fence post might be in order. Many of us grew up reading “Charlotte’s Web” while having bacon and eggs for breakfast, oblivious to any connection.

J Dudley Gilbert, five months younger than Cricket at her time of death. (Photo by Julie Gammack)

But shooting “man’s best friend” is a different story and a gross miscalculation by Noem. A 14-month-old pup is in adolescence, testing boundaries, and needs training and retraining. Not a bullet to the head. We have a 9-month-old puppy and have often said raising him is a lot more work than we remembered, but who could shoot this guy in the head??

So, what does a farm boy have to say?

”Noem’s declaration that tough decisions have to be made on a farm is not wrong, especially if it is a marginally profitable operation where options for euthanasia are limited, and calling a vet for services can affect what groceries you can buy that month,” John said.

Cricket deserved a better owner, he said. The governor could have rehomed her if she didn’t have the time to train or be responsible for the pup. She took a now-popular, conservative grandstanding practice of linking herself with guns and being “tough.”

“The optics of today’s image-making,” he added.

I also checked in with Iowa Writers Collaborative  member Cheryl Tevis, who spent a long career working for Successful Farming magazine and lives on a farm in Boone County. Her reaction:

“I was shocked to read that Kristi Noem shot a 14-month-old pointer. She expected the dog to help on pheasant hunts, but this dog was “less than worthless,” she said. Farm dogs are typically expected to help out, whether herding the livestock or guarding the property.

“I grew up on a farm and have been married to a farmer for most of my life, and we never would have considered shooting our dog if it didn’t perform well. Our dogs live outside, but they’re also our beloved pets.

“Apparently, Noem’s dog killed chickens on a visit to someone else’s farm. Dogs sometimes do kill chickens and even kill cats. In this case, it’s a canine instinct in these dogs that goes too deep to change.

“It’s true that on the farm, we do live our days near life — and death. We call a vet in the middle of the night to help deliver a calf and save the cow’s life. Yet we take livestock to market. But, although our farm dogs serve a useful purpose, we love them – despite their failings – and mourn their loss from natural causes.”

The bottom line

Let’s be sure Noem doesn’t spin this into a story about a gun-toting woman who’s just working the land versus us howling snowflake, woke libs.

Noem has managed to harness the unthinkable: Former Biden press secretary Jen Psaki and former Fox News host Megyn Kelly agree: Cricket deserved to live.

Your life was short, Cricket, but you’ve managed to unite the country. Rest in Power.

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