Skip Navigation

South Dakota governor, a potential Trump running mate, writes in new book about killing her dog

The Guardian obtained a copy of Noem’s soon-to-be released book, “No Going Back: The Truth on What’s Wrong with Politics and How We Move America Forward.” In it, she tells the story of the ill-fated Cricket, a 14-month-old wirehaired pointer she was training for pheasant hunting.

On the way home from the hunting trip, Noem writes that she stopped to talk to a family. Cricket got out of Noem’s truck and attacked and killed some of the family’s chickens, then bit the governor.

“At that moment,” Noem writes, “I realized I had to put her down.” She led Cricket to a gravel pit and killed her.

She writes, according to the Guardian, that the tale was included to show her willingness to do anything “difficult, messy and ugly” if it has to be done. But backlash was swift against the Republican governor, who just a month ago drew attention and criticism for posting an infomercial-like video about cosmetic dental surgery she received out-of-state.

You're viewing a single thread.

119 comments
  • I killed my dog. I adopted him at 6 years old at the shelter. He was incredibly abused, malnourished and pitiable. That's not why I adopted him. Honestly, I didn't adopt him. He adopted me. My kids and I had spent all day at the shelter looking for a dog to adopt, and hadn't found any dog that fit with us. The last dog that we were going to see that day was a terribly skinny black chihuahua who was absolutely terrified of all people. The shelter staff told us that he would immediately curl up in the farthest possible corner and that we shouldn't approach him, as he would bite. So the kids and I of course accepted that and settled together on the stone bench in the visiting room. They brought the dog in, who was visibly shaking and terrified. They let him off his leash and left the room. I knew there was nothing we could do to make him comfortable so we started talking about some school stuff and generally just ignoring him.

    Suddenly I felt a weight on my lap. I looked down, and this tiny shaking dog was on my lap just looking up at me. I slowly approached him with my hand and he let me pet him. He licked my hand and just looked at me with those trusting eyes.

    I didn't adopt that dog, he adopted me.

    Fast forward 10 years, and he was spry as fuck at 16 years old. We moved states and he loved where we moved. We went hiking, we went to teh beach, we saw waterfalls, we saw all sorts of things. He would leap for joy all the time, he knew I loved him, and I knew he loved me.

    One day in spring last year, he stopped eating. He stopped pooping and just... shut down. I could not get him to eat or drink or anything. I took him to the vet and the prognosis was that they could maybe prolong his life for a few months, but it would be intrusive and frankly, from the description, absolutely awful for him.

    I thought about having the vet put him to "sleep" but I didn't like that either. He didn't deserve to be injected with strange drugs in a strange place by strangers. I chose to take him home, give him a rather large dose of xanax and smother him with my hand while telling him what an amazing boy he was.

    I killed my dog, and I don't regret it. He knew how much I loved him from the first time he saw me to the last time.

119 comments