John Krull is director of Franklin College's Pulliam School of Journalism and publisher of TheStatehouseFile.com, a news website powered by Franklin College journalism students. The views expressed are those of the author only and should not be attributed to Franklin College.
She shot the dog.
She shot and killed the dog because, she said, the dog was too high-spirited for her taste. She acknowledged that she “hated” that dog.
So, she killed it in a gravel pit.
South Dakota Gov. Kristi Noem, a Republican who’s angling to be Donald Trump’s running mate on the national ticket, seems puzzled by the criticism she’s received for revealing in her new book that she killed a family dog, Cricket. She can’t understand why so many people—liberal, conservative or moderate, Democrat, Republican or independent—would be so upset.
After all, it was just a dog.
Well, there are a couple of reasons people might be angry.
The first is that whatever our political differences may be, we Americans tend to love our pets.
For many of us, the bond with our dogs or cats is akin to that we have with family, because our pets often become part of the family.
When my grown children call home, they inevitably ask my wife and me to send photos of our dog, Dewey. Even though they now live hundreds of miles away, both my daughter and my son feel an intense sense of connection with Dewey.
No, that’s not right.
They love him. The thought of anything bad happening to him would be devastating to them.
They’re not alone in feeling that way.
Take a stroll through any social media platform and you will encounter one portrait after another of family pets. The wells of affection we Americans have for Fido or Fluffy are almost bottomless.
Part of the reason we feel that way is that we understand that these are special relationships. Once we take pets into our homes and lives and domesticate them, they become our responsibility.
It’s a job most of us take seriously.
I got my first pet, a Siamese cat, when I was five. My parents told me that it was my duty to see that Whiskers—again, I got him when I was five—was fed and cared for.
I had him until I was 23 and he was 18. When I dug the hole in which to bury his body after he died, my tears flowing with every plunge of the shovel.
He gave me years of companionship, pleasure and comfort. He also taught me what it meant to care—to really care—for another living creature. I could no more imagine betraying his trust than I could burning down my house.
He’s been gone for more than 40 years now, but I still think of him.
I know that when Dewey is long departed, my children will think of him, too.
That’s the hold our pets have on most of us.
But not, apparently, on Kristi Noem.
This brings us to the second thing she does not seem to grasp.
It isn’t just that she does not understand pets. It’s also that she does not seem to understand human beings.
The way she describes killing her dog—and then killing a goat afterward—is disturbing. Not only does she not express any genuine remorse, but she actually seems to take satisfaction in the act.
She acknowledges that she hated the dog and was glad Cricket was gone.
Most of us just aren’t like that.
Most Americans aren’t bullies.
We don’t take pleasure in the pain or fear or suffering of defenseless creatures. We don’t glory in taking advantage of those who are weaker or more vulnerable than we are.
In fact, we feel an obligation to defend such creatures, be they pets or our fellow human beings.
But that’s not the way Kristi Noem thinks.
Sadly, a significant minority of Americans agree with her.
For them, cruelty is not just excusable.
The cruelty is the point.
I cannot imagine what possessed Noem to think that most Americans would find her tale of shooting a 14-month-old puppy to death charming or attractive.
Maybe she thought it would make her look tough, decisive and genuine.
She was wrong.
It just makes her look shabby and mean.
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