Copyright
Copyright Paul Benedetti, 2017
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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Benedetti, Paul, author
You can have a dog when Im dead : essays on life at an angle / Paul
Benedetti.
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-4597-3811-9 (softcover).--ISBN 978-1-4597-3812-6 (PDF).-
ISBN 978-1-4597-3813-3 (EPUB)
I. Title. II. Title: You can have a dog when I am dead.
PS8603.E55627Y59 2017 C814.6 C2016-906904-4
C2016-906903-6
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J. Kirk Howard, President
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Introduction
Like a lot of things in life, this book really began over a beer.
It was December 2007 when my pal Dave Estok invited me out for a drink. About a year earlier, Dave had returned to his hometown newspaper, The Hamilton Spectator , as its new editor-in-chief. Dave and I had spent years at the paper together in the early 1980s as young reporters, and had remained close friends ever since.
After our first beer and the usual catching up, Dave asked me if Id like to write for the paper again. I was teaching journalism full time and still freelancing. I had written some short personal essays sometimes funny, sometimes not for the Globe and Mail , a short-lived magazine called Ruby , and Canadian Living , and really enjoyed it. So I was interested but cautious.
What do you want me to write? I asked.
A column, he said.
About what? I asked.
Whatever you want, he said.
Whatever I want?
Yes, he said.
In journalism and organized crime, this is known as an offer you cant refuse.
I dont want to write about city politics, quirky characters, or serious issues of any kind, I said. You have people who do that better than me already.
I know, he said. Write about your life.
So I did.
I wrote about my wife, my kids, my parents, and my neighbours, about getting older, not much wiser but a bit fatter, about losing my keys and losing my mind. I wrote about birthdays and bar mitzvahs, about first babies and baptisms, and about weddings and wakes. I wrote about kids staying and then about them leaving, about wishing they would go and then missing them like crazy. I wrote about remembering, but more often forgetting everything from my anniversary to my wallet. And sometimes I wrote about dying, but more often I just wrote about living, about how I was bumbling through my own life, doing the best I could.
That usually meant making fun of myself and of life. But often it gave me the chance to stop and reflect on things a bit, too.
So, now when people ask me, What do you write about? I say, Nothing. And everything.
So thats what the essays in this book are about nothing and everything.
I hope you like it.
You may be wondering about the title: You Can Have a Dog When Im Dead . Its also about life, a reference to our ongoing discussion about getting a dog. My wife wants one; I dont. I think all good marriages are based on compromise.
Thats mine.
Paul Benedetti
September 2016
1
My Kingdom for a Good Nights Sleep
June 17, 1999
Lately, I have been sleeping with two women. I mean, two women simultaneously. That is, I have two women in my bed at night. Now under most circumstances this would be considered quite a good thing. In fact, most guys I know would consider this quite excellent and want to hear details. Not so in this case.
You see, the two women are my wife and my two-year-old daughter. The former I am quite used to sleeping with, and have done so every night with few exceptions for the past eleven years. Its my daughter whos the problem.
Its not like she doesnt have her own bed and has to sleep with us. She has a perfectly nice bed; hell, shes got her own room and, frankly, its bigger than ours. I pointed this out to my wife when we were getting it ready for the new baby and she gave me a look that said, Only a selfish, uncaring lout would even talk about room size at a time like this. Ive never actually heard my wife use the word lout , but Im pretty sure she was thinking it.
Anyway, back to the sleeping arrangements. Its not like Im not used to this. We have three children and the two older boys also migrated to our bed during the night. Somehow, that didnt seem as much of a bother. Maybe it was because I was younger. Maybe, because I was a new (and then newish) father, I thought it was cute. This happens for a while and is probably the reason you dont mind being barfed on in public and other fun dad experiences. Or maybe it was because the boys were just less trouble. Im not sure. A good part of those years is a fog, and believe me it wasnt due to drinking. When youre helping raise two young boys, you dont really need booze to be dazed and confused.
But my daughter, Ella (who is extremely cute, I must admit), is a complete pain in bed. For one thing shes constantly throwing off the sheet and blankets. I dont blame her; her little body is like some kind of thermonuclear reactor. Apparently, according to scientific research, a childs metabolism is so fast that they give off enough heat to run a small steam turbine. (Okay, I made that up, but you get the point.) Whatever the reason, her antics leave me uncovered and shivering in the middle of the night.
She also likes to roll around, press her feet against me, and lie on my head. Why anyone, even a two-year-old kid, would find sleeping on my head comfortable is not entirely clear, but judging by how soundly she sleeps while on my head, its obvious that she does.
About halfway through the night, my long-suffering wife usually gives up and migrates to my daughters bed. I would do that myself, except I am six feet tall and after one night of sleeping in Ellas bed, I woke up in the morning ready for the lead in Richard III .
Once my daughter discovers that my wife has left (she seems to have some kind of built-in parent radar that wakes her up if were not being annoyed enough), she follows her back to her own bed and hops in. That means that moments later, they both arrive back in bed with me and the whole rigmarole starts again.
All of this would be almost tolerable except that my daughter adds to the torture by occasionally peeing on us. You just havent lived until you wake up at 4:30 a.m. shivering in a bed drenched with ice-cold kid pee. It makes filling out your tax form look good. For some reason (and it could be my hot-kid-body theory) being drenched in pee doesnt seem to bother Ella. Oh no, shes wet and warm and sound asleep by this point.