The strip dealt with the escapades of Calvin, a rambunctious 6-year-old (named after Protestant reformer John Calvin), who would interact with his stuffed tiger Hobbes (named after philosopher Thomas Hobbes) when no one else was around. Stories could either take place in the real world or in Calvin’s imagination, with him assuming one of many alter-egos (Spaceman Spiff, Tracer Bullet, Stupendous Man and more). Serious topics such as death and the environment were also given attention; in one strip Calvin and Hobbes are in the woods looking at a pile of garbage and litter that has been dumped there, to which Calvin says, “Sometimes I think that the greatest sign that there is intelligent life somewhere in the universe is that it hasn't tried to contact us yet.”

The strip would go on philosophical tangents, oftentimes while Calvin and Hobbes would be careening down a hill on his red wagon; a discourse on fate, for example, has the two deliberating whether or not they should bail out as the wagon flies off a cliff into a ravine. Other times the art would be a reflection of the topic at hand. In one Sunday installment, which Watterson explains is about his being paralyzed in an argument by seeing all sides of an issue, Calvin’s world goes “neo-cubist” and he starts seeing all sides of everything. With enough concentration he forces the world back into one perspective and says, “You’re still wrong, dad.” Classic.

From the beginning Bill Watterson was in a state of constant warfare with the syndicate, who were hell-bent on merchandizing Calvin & Hobbes. Watterson refused and demanded complete creative control, knowing such media whoredom would undermine his artistic credibility. In his words, "Characters lose their believability as they start endorsing major companies and lend their faces to bedsheets and boxer shorts."

Over his career Watterson took two long sabbaticals, from May 1991 to February 1992 and from April through December of 1994. During those times the newspapers begrudgingly ran Calvin & Hobbes reruns. When he returned he petitioned for a larger Sunday color strip. The standard format was too confining for his tastes; the top row of panels could be chopped off by a paper wanting to save space, which meant it would have to be a throwaway gag with little relation to the rest of the strip. He asked for the freedom to design his strip as he saw fit and his syndicate granted him a third of the page; this drew the ire of other cartoonists who saw him as being self-indulgent and egotistical. The change was made and few papers dropped the comic. Watterson has always stood by the decision, saying it was important he be able to produce the highest quality work possible.

In 1995 Bill Watterson sent a letter to the syndicate, signaling his retirement from the world newspaper comicdom. “I believe I've done what I can do within the constraints of daily deadlines and small panels,” he wrote. Throughout it all he had never sold Calvin & Hobbes out, with the exception of a couple incredibly rare 1989 calendars. You may be surprised to learn that all those stickers of Calvin praying to a cross or urinating on something are illegal forgeries which Watterson highly disapproves of. Since he went into retirement he has kept a remarkably low profile. He hasn’t been involved in any major projects, and he no longer gives autographs; he stopped after he found out people were selling them on Ebay. He now spends his days painting landscapes with his father.

I didn’t pay much attention to the funnies after Calvin & Hobbes ended. There has never been, and probably never will be, anything to fill the void it left behind. However, there the various collections to look back on, and a boxed set containing every Calvin & Hobbes strip was recently released, though it does carry a high price tag. If you have never read Calvin & Hobbes you owe it to yourself to do so; my words don’t do it justice.