The Ballad of Johnny & June—Verse 7

Previously, June Carter blossomed as a widow following our loss of Johnny Cash. She seemed to grow more confident, more herself, once she was out from under his oversized shadow.

Second Across the Rainbow Bridge

If there is a rainbow bridge that transports beloved dogs across to their Reward, Miss June Carter would most certainly refuse to be seen crossing it. Doing what was expected of her—even if it was for her obvious benefit—was not something Junie was interested in. June did her own thing: inscrutable, stubborn, and unique.

If I would allow myself some kind of spiritual comfort, I would hope that June is waiting at the start of the Rainbow Bridge, paw tentatively poised to step on, waiting for one of her humans to lead the way. She is great at waiting for us to catch up.

Once Miss June was designated as a widow, her personality changed. She was more forceful (so so loud in such a little frame), she was feistier, even if her regular decisions to confront Miss Jordan head-on were seldom good ideas . . . ), she was less interested in being in a crate at night. Or ever.

So, she integrated herself into our lives much more than she had when she had JC to cover for her. And we loved her even more.

Being so small—she could be picked up with one hand—meant that she was easy to take with us when we went almost anywhere. And in the lockdown, when there were no indoors to go to, she went everywhere with us. She even came along to the movies when we saw Minari at a drive-in. She didn’t miss many of our adventures, although she liked to make it seem she was missing everything—being selectively blind and deaf was a skill she elevated to an art. We will now never know whether she really couldn’t hear or see us . . . or whether she just wasn’t interested in what we were saying or doing at any particular time.

The first sign of trouble for June was when we found a lump on her gum. We pretended not to know what it was, even as we took her to the vet so they could tell us for sure what we didn't want to know.

So when her cancer diagnosis was confirmed in March of 2021, I made one of those heartfelt but ill-considered announcements that I can only presume I am famous for. I held her in my arms and promised that she would never have another bath ever again. June hated baths as much as she hated anything—and that means she hated baths to the maximum baths are able to be hated.

I should have known better. The vet said she might not make it to May; maybe June at a stretch. By the end of May, although the tumor was now clearly visible in her mouth, she remained her old self: cuddly, clingy, loud. And increasingly dirty . . . and a little smelly. But a promise was a promise, and we all had to learn to live with June as she was, for as long as she stayed with us.

She managed to go without a bath until October 2021. Eventually, she lost her legendary appetite and we knew it was time to let her go.

June Carter was an awesome little lady and will be missed for as long as we live. She was a tiny, huge presence in our lives and her like will most definitely never be seen again. Maybe Big JC did meet her at the entrance to the rainbow bridge. Maybe they laughed at how she’d played us for two-plus years, and they trotted across together. I will choose to believe that. As we like to say—that’s such a Junie thing to do.