Strange species, these humans. I never got it why they gave up walking on four legs. And walking upright obviously comes at a price. The whole weight is distributed over only two legs, two feet! They must have realised this was a pretty stupid move for them in evolution, and now that it’s too late to reverse this alleged advance, they look for constant replacement of their missing pair of legs or try to avoid walking whenever they can. They invented mobile huts on four wheels that would take them from one place to another, and sometimes they would even link them to huge caterpillar-like formations which can accomodate hundreds of humans, all moving very fast without having to walk. But then again, the biped-lifestyle has been so deeply engrained in humans by now that they even reduced the locomotion devices to two wheels only, but with the mere purpose of avoiding to walk on two feet. It must be very painful. No wonder their paws are so sensitive.

As you may guess, despite their sophisticated inventions, humans cannot completely refrain from walking. Sometimes they have to. And thankfully, there are organisations that help these poor creatures ease their suffering. My mummy works for one of these, it is called the National Association to Minimise Suffering from Heel Impairment (NAMSHI). How ironic that this acronym means “we walk” in Arabic. Human feet are extremely vulnerable, which is why they need some solid walking aids. The disorder is so strong that humans require customised feet covers for different types of walks: relaxed walks at home, walks in the countryside, or faster walkies outdoors. In particular female humans are affected by sensitive soles of foot. On average, they own 19 pairs of walking aids but some poor little things need up to 80! Ya habibi! Thankfully the foot paddings come in different colours and styles, so that the females’ physical disappearance is not afflicted by their congenital defect, which is terrible enough. There are many organisations that help humans cope with their orthopaedic weakness but Mummy’s boss is so kind-hearted and charitable that he founded a shop that delivers the walking aids to the humans’ homes! Or to their work place! So that they don’t have to walk! Isn’t this brilliant? Mummy has only a mild version of this sensitive-feet disposition but she is very happy that she can claim NAMSHI’s services too. Every time they send an aid package, I inspect the contents and feel so blessed to be a dog! Long live four paws!

Aid Supply from Namshi

Many people ask about my name. Today it’s about time to reveal the secret behind it.

First off: No, my name is not “Slappy”. I hate all kinds of associations with slaps by the way. It’s Schlappi, S-C-H-L-A-P-P-I, pronounced [ʃlapɪ].

I cannot remember when I actually got this name. It was years before I met my adoptive parents. But hey, looking back it was a sign! How many other dogs born in Dubai get a German name and end up with German-speaking bipeds years later? Well?

Anyway, “schlapp” means exhausted, tired out, but anyone who has ever met me knows: It would be ironic to call me such a name. As much as calling Speedy Gonzalez a slowcoach.

In fact, there is another meaning to it which refers to the impact of gravitational force on one of my ears. A floppy ear. Which fills breeders with horror but mummy with joy. So when she first saw me, she found it irresistible. And so did daddy. Can you imagine. They did not even take a look at another dog. They saw my floppy ear, and they wanted to have it! It was my ticket out of the shelter, this floppy ear. I had to pee out of excitement. After I had spent more than four years in the shelter, I would be living in a real pack! And all because of my ear!

You can imagine now how much I love my name. What it means to me. So please don’t ever get it wrong. It’s Schlappi.

My First Day at Home

As much as I love the desert, there is nothing like chilling on the beach on hot days like these!

Schlappi.me – me, Schlappi.

Never before anything was about me. I was born in Dubai but I don’t know my mummy and daddy and I don’t know my siblings. The first months of my life I spent in a rabbit cage. The only attention I got was beatings. One day I was brought to a bigger cage. A safe place where I was nursed back to health and which I shared with Rita, my kennel mate. Many other dogs lived there too. We were all fed, we could play with each other and learned how to use the treadmill. Still, we all waited for someone to take us out, someone who would cuddle us and who we would protect in return. Bipeds came almost every weekend to look for additions to their families. While us big ones slowly lost our cute features, the bipeds lost their interest in us. Fortunately many of our little friends made it. They would enjoy the first months of their lives in a snug and warm environment. Luckily I am a very patient dog. I waited for weeks and months and years for my future mum and dad to get married, for their arrival in Dubai, for the burglary in their villa, their decision to adopt a real grown-up and brave watchdog: Me, Schlappi. I was perfect for them, and they were perfect for me. For more than a year, we’ve been living as a pack now. We are a real gang, and because of me looking and howling a bit like a wolf, mummy calls the three of us the “Wolfgang”. And me? I am Schlappi.