Delaware? You. Are. Arrested.


This is Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle. I am reporting from Sussex, New Jersey this morning after a long drive from Felton, Delaware. We told you yesterday on the blog that we would fill you in on why police showed up at our door at 10 p.m. a few nights ago at the campground. Delaware? You are a small but beautiful state. But…you. Are. Arrested.

Let me start at the beginning of my report. When you are traveling full-time like we are, daily things become a bit of a challenge. Having water hookups and other hookups, washing clothes and washing dishes can take all day. Finding supplies like food in an unfamiliar town can be time consuming as well. And how do you get mail? That is it’s own set of problems.

There are things that the persons buy Deputy Digby and I on a regular basis, and sometimes, we just can’t find those where we are. As well, we have generous companies sending us supplies for the animal rescues we visit. And so yeah, getting mail is a bit of a challenge. So when we arrived at our campground, we asked if we could have a few packages delivered to us. They gave us the address and we said thank you, and they called us when they arrived. All was well. Or so we thought.

So Thursday night, around 10, we were all tired. Girl Person was still working on the blog with wine, Boy Person was doing the same, I had my matzo cracker snack, and Digby was sound asleep. All of a sudden, Girl Person thought she heard some talking. She asked Boy Person if he heard that. He said he did, and went to the door. There stood a fellow police officer shining a light into the RV. He asked for Girl Person. And that’s when everyone’s hearts dropped.

Now, Girl Person said that is the first time that police have come to ask for her. And she hopes it is the last. Boy Person told her to come to the door. Everything ran through Girl Person’s mind. What had she done? Did the chihuahua’s owners that had attacked me at the brewery earlier that day called to come and get me? Had she forgotten to pick up dog poop? Nope, nope, nope. She stepped outside ready to hear bad news. Had someone close to her died? She just didn’t know. We were barking and were told to calm down. We didn’t until Boy Person stepped outside too.

The police officer then asked her a question. Did she get mail delivered to the campground? She told him, yes, she did. What was wrong? He then told her that it was unacceptable to get mail delivered there. It was not allowed. She asked if he was kidding. She told him that we had asked and verified with staff it is was ok and they assured us it was. He seemed surprised. At this point, Boy Person had had it. He asked HIM if it was ok that police were showing up at our door, scaring us to death and 10 p.m. After a very lengthy discussion which I will spare you the details as I am getting long winded anyway, the police officer left. And Girl Person broke down in tears.

Now, I will tell you this. I don’t like it when Girl Person cries. Not one bit. And after a few days, we calmed down about it. Until the next occurrence.

You see, one of the packages we received sent us something wrong. Their customer service took it upon themselves to resend us a product without asking, so you can guess what happened. More. Mail. Was. Delivered.

So. Sunday we get a call. A call from an officer. And again, I will spare you the boring details. But let’s just say Boy Person and the officers had a discussion of sorts. I felt like we were in Mayberry. Did Barney Fife work here? Was there nothing better to do in Delaware than police the mail? I have also seen that Dukes Of Hazard show. I figured we should take the Big Blue Treat Wagon and run it up a ramp like the General Lee and fly right over this campground. As pretty as this park was that we stayed at, we probably will never go there again. Boy Person asked the officer one question that made them think. When is it ever just the right thing to try and help someone else, despite whatever rules that you think you have made? When is it just ok to be helpful, to be kind? Were a few pieces of mail worth getting arrested for by Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle? No, no. But the park had its own last word on this.

As we were pulling out of the camp on Monday, we pulled up to one of those dump stations for the RV. If you ask me, persons should have their own bags like dogs. As Boy Person hooked up the hose, you can guess what happened. It split in two pieces throwing dirty water and the sorts all over him. He went inside the office to tell them, and the lady said, ok, I will make a note of that. Seriously. Delaware? Make a note of this. YOU. ARE. ARRESTED.

-Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle

4 thoughts on “Delaware? You. Are. Arrested.

  1. Barbara Froelich

    1st. Mail is under the jurisdiction of the federal government not local. If the postal inspectors had shown up at your door, well that’s reason to weep.
    2nd. If the campground has a physical street address and gets mail then anyone, with permission can also receive mail there.
    Your other option, which is a pain in the neck, would be to have your mail addressed to General Delivery at whatever post office you are close to.
    Bottom line, the police officer had overstepped his bounds. Arrest. Him.

  2. Jelli Gaurhier apologies for a 10:00PM intrusion? Aren’t there rules?
    Sorry you had one bad egg-perience..
    You are doing good things for animals,just keep a positive attitude.
    Thank you, for arresting them!😠

  3. gai bonham

    Sorry you guys had to go through that. Better luck at the next camp ground. Thanks for sharing your trip and adventures.

  4. So sorry for all your troubles. Full time RVing can be stressful. A suggestion for mail: Have it sent to your name, General Delivery, in the town in which you are staying. Then you just have to go to the Post Office and pick it up. They will hold it 30 days for you. Then you don’t have to deal with third parties. If things are being sent Fed EX or UPS you can pick them up at the local store. Just let them know you will be picking it up there. Hope this helps.

Leave a Reply