Where The Streets Have No Names and No Dogs

This is Deputy Digby Pancake. I’m not a scholar. I didn’t go to school. It’s a good thing Girl Person took typing school to type this blog back in 1873.

But I don’t have to be able to read or how to type to know that a sign that looks like this wasn’t painted by an artist. No Van Gogh. Just a Van NO. No dogs allowed.

It’s not often when we go camping that there are so many rules. Or so many streets that we can’t walk down. And I noticed something. These streets we can’t walk down? Well. They look like the one street we can walk down. So why can’t we walk down them? These streets have no names. And no dogs either.

I haven’t been alive as long as Girl Person. Especially since she took typing class in 1873. But I’m not sure when it became ok for so much separation in our world. Even the mountains and oceans touch sometimes.

Some don’t want to be with others different than they are. Some don’t like to have their likes questioned.

Some think they are better than others and don’t accept any other views or ideas. And that’s sad. That’s not joyful. That’s not what or how our beautiful world was meant to be.

Our world is full of different individuals. Individuals that look different just like flowers. Individuals that have fur or without fur. And as long as we show respect, we should all be able to walk down every street. Anyone.

As dogs and our parents, you have to be responsible though. To pick up after yourself. To be respectful and nice to others. Not to infringe on others. It goes both ways. It’s a two way street. It should be a very happy street.

Even though pancakes are my favorite, I don’t carry around a sign that says “No waffles”. Because as long as those waffles don’t take all the maple syrup, well, I think we can pretty much live in harmony.

You don’t have to agree with everyone. That’s impossible. But you should always try to understand. Blocking someone out of your life totally doesn’t help. There will always be someone who thinks differently than you. Respect that.

As we leave this campground today, we never got to see the lake because we weren’t allowed. We didn’t get to see the mysterious campsites down the no name streets. But we did find a way to appreciate that our world has a lot to work on. No. Not our earth. Those who call it home. Take down the signs. Open your heart.

Today, we leave for another state park as we make our way south! Stay tuned.

Deputy Digby Pancake

2 thoughts on “Where The Streets Have No Names and No Dogs

  1. Theresa Bates

    The first 10 years of my life I lived in a town where many of the streets didn’t have names. The street we lived on before we moved away was “The last street that runs west of Highway 1 just past Weavers Truck Stop.” Its name these days is Thomas Street. We did allow dogs on our street. There were lots of them.

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