A Day in the Life of Jasper

(AS TOLD BY JASPER PERINO)

5 a.m.—New York City—the city that never sleeps, even if you’re dog tired. The trucks start coming by before dawn and when I hear “beep beep beep” I get up from my bed on the floor, stretch upward and downward as dogs do, and walk to my mom’s side of the bed—because she never rejects me. I flap my ears, shaking the sleep out of my head. Then I sit and wait for her to say, “Come on up, Jasper.” She pats the bed. I don’t want to seem too eager, so I wait a couple of beats. “Come ON, Jasper.” She can’t get back to sleep while I’m just sitting there staring at her, so I hop up.

Jasper sleeping with his sock monkey.

My mom and I have a routine in the mornings. When I get on the bed, she turns on her side as I twist around finding my spot. “Cuddle in,” she says and then I land with a thump, my shoulder blade digging into her stomach, which is the best way to assure I get close enough to her. “Jeez, Jasper,” she says. Then she pats my head and puts her arm over my side. She grabs ahold of one of my legs, and my dad lays his hand on top of hers. We sleep for another hour or so, ignoring the horns honking down below as people get their day started.

6:30 a.m.—My dad gets up and opens the window shade so that my mom can watch the sunrise. Then he goes to make her Strawberry Carnation Instant Breakfast and English breakfast tea—he brings it to her in bed, just like his dad did for his mom. They train them well in jolly old England. I open one eye but otherwise don’t stir. My mom says her prayers and starts reading the news clips of the day. If I roll over onto my back, she snaps a picture, laughs, and sends it to her girlfriend. She thinks it’s their little secret, but I’m on to them. Eat your hearts out, ladies.

7:30 a.m.—Dog park! Central Park is leash-free from 6 to 9 a.m. every day. Morning walks are my favorites. Usually my dad takes me while my mom pitches stories for The Five and posts pictures he sends to her. We walk about three miles. We stop at the pond to look at the fish, then we walk up to Bethesda Fountain near Big Dog Hill and back to the baseball fields. That’s where I run around with my pack, an assortment of terriers, poodles, ridgebacks, whippets, and shepherds. I’ve known most of these dogs all my life. There’s Hershey, Lily, Zeke, EZ, Otto, Bear, Bella, Martina—and many more. Our play fighting looks and sounds vicious, especially in slo-mo video, but we’d never hurt a fly. When we get home, my dad makes my breakfast and my mom wants a full report. It’s funny to hear him tell her what happened—as if he knows what we were thinking! On weekends when she joins us at the park, I show off a bit with leaps over tall fences and what they call my “Silly Two Minutes” on the ivy near the bridge.

9 a.m.–1 p.m.—A dog’s gotta nap. After breakfast I usually hang on the couch with my dad while he works on his laptop. He doesn’t mind too much when I want a little attention and lay my head down on his keyboard. I’ve been on more than a few Skype calls with his clients. Sometimes he plays a YouTube video for me because I like to watch puppies playing—it never gets old.

1 p.m.–2 p.m. I can’t read a clock but I can tell time. Around 1:00, I start listening for the elevator because that’s when my dog walker, Barbara Stevenson, comes to pick me up. I love Barbara! I always greet her with a toy, such as my sock monkey or moose.

Barbara and I cover a lot of ground, from Central Park West to Broadway to Columbus Circle and then back through the park where I stalk a few squirrels and pigeons. I like to keep my hunting skills sharp in case I ever need to use them. Occasionally, she hails a taxi and rolls down the window for me to stick my head out for the ride to pick up another dog. I pretend not to see the tourists who point and laugh—have they never seen a dog in a cab?

2 p.m.–5 p.m.—More napping, this time on the bed or the chair. I especially like to lie on the clean laundry—it smells so good. Sometimes I stand on the ottoman that was supposed to be for my mom’s feet to rest, but she gave it to me so that I can look out the window and see what’s going on out there. Often I’ll go with my dad to run an errand. My favorite is the bank where the folks there have treats for me. I’m supposed to get only one, but with this face I always get two. We also go to the post office, and I sit at my dad’s feet while he mails packages. I try to blend into the carpet because I’m not supposed to be inside. Once when he was told there were no dogs allowed, my dad in his British accent said I was a therapy dog. Which is true, in a way, since I tend to make people feel better.

Just another day at the bank.

5 p.m.—Every day my dad has this ritual to sit on the sofa and watch The Five. He types notes about the show and sends them to my mom during the commercial breaks. A few times, I’ve had the chance to go to her studio and sit in for a segment of the show. That’s always fun. I’m a bit of a natural, actually—I just sit there and look into the camera and people kind of love it. My mom makes me wear a tie when I’m on set—she’s a bit old-fashioned that way.

Jasper getting his hair and makeup done before going on set.

Jasper in the Green Room before his appearance on The Five.

Jasper on The Five, in his bow tie, of course!

Jasper comes on set of The Five for his birthday.

6 p.m.—My internal clock tells me it’s time to head out with my dad to meet my mom at Columbus Circle as she walks home. I never quite know when she’s going to appear, so I’m on full alert. And when I see her—oh it’s crazy. My tail wags me all around. I jump up and grab onto her hips, trying not to knock out one of her teeth when I reach up for a kiss (she’s my mom!)—I’m just so enthusiastic sometimes I can’t help it. She never gets mad at me, though. It makes me think that I should try to get away with more.

7–10 p.m. I like it when my parents stay home in the evenings. My mom takes off her TV makeup and changes into something comfy. Then she sits on her side of the couch and I scramble up to nuzzle in as we watch the last part of Special Report. She’s always telling my dad to shush when this guy Charles Krauthammer starts talking. I guess he’s a genius, at least that’s what she says. After Charles is finished, I get to have my dinner. Meat and kibble—it always tastes so good!

My favorite show is Wheel of Fortune, which they watch after Jeopardy! (That show is too hard for me.) I get a kick out of Pat Sajak—it’s like he’s always just about to tell a joke. That guy’s got the life—what a job!

Before we settle in to watch some shows, one of my parents gets on the floor by my toy box and we have a big game of tug-of-war. I can pull my mom across the floor, which she thinks is hilarious. My dad’s trick is to hide a toy under his torso, and I humor him for a bit until I really want it back. Then I lick his ears, which makes him crack up and he drops his guard. I win every time.

I watch TV for a while and my parents do some last-minute work. Then my mom asks my dad to “help us” and he gets up and moves me around until I’m on my back and she can hold me like she did when I was a pup. It’s pretty sweet. We stay like that until it’s time for my “last wee.” Sometimes I just can’t be bothered because I’m so cozy, so my dad has to play a game of hide-and-seek with me. I’ve always been scared that they’re going to leave me, so he knows I’ll jump up to make sure he hasn’t disappeared into thin air.

We head down in the elevator where I sit and look at my dad’s pocket. I wait for him to say his line, “What do we do in the elevator?” Well, I sit and then he produces a biscuit, broken in half, so it feels like I’m getting two treats. It’s a play that’s run off-Broadway every day of my life.

Once my dad forgot something in the apartment and he left me in the hallway after he called for the elevator. He wasn’t back by the time the doors opened, and on instinct I stepped inside. Then the doors shut behind me. I’d never been in an elevator on my own before. I tried to be brave but I started to panic as the elevator went down. I looked at the buttons, but it was all Greek to me. Suddenly the car stopped and then started going back up. The doors opened on our floor and my dad was there saying, “Oh thank God, Jasper! Are you okay?” But he was laughing, too. When we got upstairs that night, he told my mom what happened. Let’s just say that she didn’t think it was funny. She really let him have it!

Aside from mishaps like that night, our last trip outside goes smoothly. I hurry to get my business done so that we can go back upstairs to my mom. She always gives me a bit of her hand lotion before we go to sleep—I lick it off my paws so that I won’t try to lick her hands. Pretty smart on her part—it’s what they call a win-win. Kind of like my life with them.

Jasper’s face when I met the late Jake-Dierks Bentley’s dog, in Nashville.