Monday, August 12, 2024

The Dogs Buried Over the Bridge: A Memoir in Dog Years by Rheta Grimsley Johnson

 


Reviewed by Jeanne

Full confession:  I often refuse to read books where I know the animal dies at the end.  I empathize far too much.  This is why I didn’t pick up The Dogs Buried Over the Bridge when it first arrived at the library.  I felt the title said it all.

However, I was looking for something to read and remembered how much I had enjoyed Rheta Grimsley Johnson’s column in the newspaper.  Even when she was writing about something I really didn’t care about (okay, Auburn football), she managed to make it interesting.  She is one of those people who sees the details, especially picking up on the little things that bind us together, and makes life in a swamp seem as familiar as life in a holler. Even better, most of the time she did write about things of interest such as the South and country music.  She even wrote a book about Hank Williams, Sr.

The first chapter in, I knew I had made a good choice.  The book is more memoir than I expected, but that is not at all a bad thing.  I confess I had wondered a bit about her life from various references in her columns and not only was I going to find answers, but they’d be given in her own inimitable style. That’s not to say the dogs got short shrift; they are an important part of her life.  She’s learned a lot from her dogs, but she didn’t start out as an avid dog lover.

 Growing up, the rule was no animals in the house.  It didn’t matter if there was a heatwave or a flood: no exceptions.  When Rheta and her first husband, Jimmy Johnson (author of the Arlo and Janis comic strips) got their first dog, they really didn’t know how to take care of it. Also, they were barely scraping by themselves so didn’t have the money to spare for dog food, much less vet bills or dog accessories.  They ended up giving that dog away, but the seed had been planted.  As she writes, “We dog people are born, not made, and simply need dogs. We aren’t easily discouraged by inconveniences—or reality.”

Johnson writes beautifully.  She is descriptive but she cuts to the heart of the matter.  She is honest about her failures with dogs and relationships, and how hard it is to write a personal newspaper column, to give away parts of yourself to be scrutinized by thousands of readers who believe they know you and can criticize or just come visit at will.

So, yes, there are losses in this book, but Grimsley Johnson is clear-eyed about them all, never maudlin even though you know how much it hurts.  She is more interested in conveying their lives than their passing.  Mabel, her heart dog, is the one who convinced her to get her to get permanent eyeliner because Mabel’s natural “raccoon eyes” always helped her get her way.  It certainly helped Mabel to to become the first of many indoor dogs, breaking once and for all the “no animals in the house” rule.  

Even non-dog lovers will find much to enjoy in this book.

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