Let’s Talk Cricket

Kristi Noem is in the dog house (ahem) with people of every political leaning for shooting her 15-month-old dog, Cricket, after he killed her neighbor's chickens, as documented in her new autobiography. Some on the Right are criticizing her for being out of touch with the electorate and sabotaging her electoral future. Others are defending her for honestly exposing the rural versus urban divide in attitudes among Americans. As a lifelong dog lover, I'm here to explain why I'm in the latter camp and to open the discussion to the cultural implications of the reaction to Noem's story.

What I'm not going to do is spend much time here on Noem and her political career. I just don't know enough about her. My overall impression is she's a typical Republican ladder-climber -- talks a good game and ultimately disappoints.

Now to me and my life with dogs. I grew up in the suburbs near Cleveland and the Emerald Necklace park system with a German Shepherd, Grendel, who would wait for me at the bus stop 100 yards from home and walk home ahead of me snarling and baring her teeth to warn off any would-be attackers. To say she was protective would be an understatement. She was also an excellent judge of character as she absolutely hated the paper boy, who grew up to be abusive to his adoptive parents. My parents were not pet-people, but our family of seven kids compensated for their disinterest up until we started to move on with our adult lives. Grendel was sent to a family farm where, despite losing a leg in a fight with raccoons, her life was ended like Cricket's after she and another farm dog killed six full grown hogs. She was an amazing athlete and became a bloodthirsty predator. She had to go.

My dog in high school was a German Shepherd mix and rescue that my brother brought home one summer break from college. She was a good friend and playmate and lived out her natural life's end on my sister's property while I was away at college.

I missed having a dog while in college, and so, shortly after Mr. C and I married, we adopted a puppy mill pet store Samoyed who lived with us and another couple in our first home. I still carry guilt about breeding her (she was NOT breeding material), although she had a gentle and sociable Sammy personality. With everyone working days, she was sadly neglected and paid the price for us learning what it meant to be the opposite of good, responsible dog owners. We had her put down after her mobility diminished.

After two miscarriages, we decided to get serious about having kids and I quit my somewhat stressful engineering job which also required a little travel, and became a stay-at-home wife-soon-to-be-mother. We saw this as an opportunity to fulfill the obligation as pet owners that we had neglected before. I called the Samoyed club of Colorado and was directed to a very responsible breeder, who turned out to be a lifelong advisor regarding dog breeds and training. Grandma J sold us a male puppy as a pet, who turned out to be a champion show dog and runner-up for the Samoyed National Championship just after his 1st birthday (the national champion that year was an older dog who was "next in line").

Sidebar: How Starstuff became a champion show dog is somewhat amusing. Grandma J came to our home and interviewed us to make sure we were suitable owners for one of her puppies. She also had a policy of grooming all her puppies herself every quarter for the first two years of their lives. So we were in fairly frequent contact with her after we bought our boy. Once when I was on the phone with her I somewhat worriedly described him as being "pigeon-toed" when I walked him. She got quiet for a minute and then asked if she could come see him on the trail with me. It turns out he was single-tracking -- a highly desirable quality in conformation show dogs. And, boy, he was magnificent in the ring! A real star. Grandma J became co-owners with us and did all the grooming and handling and introduced us to the world of show dogs. We were proud co-owners of a champion!

Starstuff was still a puppy after our first daughter was born and I was doubly exhausted as a new mom and puppy playmate, so we rescued one of Grandma J's female Samoyed to keep him company. Her previous owners were distressed about all the dog hair on their clothes. Insert inquisitive Spock eyebrow raised image here. . . who doesn't know Samoyeds shed - A LOT - before they purchase one??

Our girls got to grow up as youngsters with these two lovable Sammy friends. Starstuff met a tragic end while we were on vacation and the dog sitters didn't realize he could reach the new, full bottle of prescription Rimadyl chewable tablets on the counter. Mr. C flew home from vacation to be with him until he bled out after five days in the dog hospital. Had I been with him, I would not have allowed the vet to wait. I would have insisted they put him down. I'm like Noem that way. Dogs are animals, not people. While they have an instinct for self-preservation, they do not contemplate the meaning of their lives and their ultimate end. He would not have known the needle they inserted to sedate him before stopping his heart signified his last moments on earth.

My rule concerning killing pets is this: I will not allow my animals to suffer (or cause suffering) in order to spare myself the grief of losing them. Bottom line.

We've since downsized our dog breed preferences and have had Pembroke Welsh Corgis (one currently) and a Border Terrier at Grandma J's recommendation. The Border Terrier is my new favorite breed, and I say that having thought I'd never own a terror-ier. The puppy trainer we worked with said she doesn't seem to know she's a terrier. Just so. She is a playful companion and a lapdog snuggler. I love her dearly. Which is precisely why, when the time comes, I will not spare myself.