I loved the comic strip “Calvin & Hobbes.” It’s the one strip I rushed to read in the daily newspaper, and I purchased several of the compilations creator Bill Watterson sold in book form.

I still remember the strip that hooked me as a Calvin fan for life. Calvin burped, prompting the typical adult reply from his mother: “Calvin! What do we say after that?” Here’s how the conversation went next:

Calvin: Must be a barge coming through!
Mom: WHAT do you say?!
Calvin: That sure tasted better going down than coming up!
Mom: Three strikes and you’re history, kiddo.
Calvin, sheepishly: Excuse me.

Classic! Calvin was a redneck through and through. So was his stuffed tiger, Hobbes, who came to life in Calvin’s imagination and the strip. But their creator is an enlightened redneck.

Readers may have never thought about Watterson’s personal choices when they read the strip, but that strength of character echoed throughout his work. “Calvin and Hobbes” is complex, thoughtful and thought provoking. Calvin and Hobbes aren’t plastic and one-dimensional. …

[They are] a hyper-imaginative kid and his pet tiger who may or may not be real, depending on who’s looking at him. But that’s just the surface. That doesn’t really begin to explain Watterson’s unique storytelling device in which readers switch between the world as Calvin sees it — a fantastical place — and as adults see it — a cut ‘n’ dried conventional reality. You need to immerse yourself in “Calvin and Hobbes” to truly understand it. Sure, you could read one strip, get the gag and move on with your life, but you’d be missing out.

I sure do miss Watterson’s work, which ran for only a decade. So do millions of other fans.

Unlike other popular art of the era — the films of Kevin Costner, perhaps, or the music of Bryan Adams — “Calvin and Hobbes” has not been time-stamped and filed away. It has endured, even thrived.

Reruns of the strip, no longer available to newspapers in North America, still appear in more than 50 countries around the world (Miss Wormwood sends Calvin to the corner in Chinese, Vietnamese and Arabic). With little or no marketing, the “Calvin and Hobbes” compilations, now numbering 18 books, still sell half a million copies a year, according to Universal Press Syndicate. Total sales are nearing 45 million.

(Released in 2005, “The Complete Calvin and Hobbes,” a three-volume collection of every C&H strip, has sold more than 500,000 copies. Perhaps not all that impressive — until you realize the set weighs 23 pounds and retails for $150.)

Bootlegged Calvin merchandise is still ubiquitous, from fraternity T-shirts to the back windows of pickups. Fan Web sites abound. Search “Calvin and Hobbes” on YouTube, and you’ll find dozens of attempts to animate the characters, some impressive, some embarrassing.

I admired and respected the creator as much as the comic strip, though. The temptation of commercialism was never enough to make Watterson cheapen his art to earn millions of dollars by extending the “Calvin and Hobbes” brand into every nook of society.

I still cringe today when I see “Calvin and Hobbes” trinkets, especially those disgusting bumper stickers of Calvin urinating, because I know they are a clear violation of Watterson’s trademark. There is no way he ever would have approved such an unenlightened redneck representation of his character.

By the same token, I was annoyed a couple of weeks ago when a series of winter- and snow-themed “Calvin and Hobbes” strips went viral on the Internet after the Blizzard of 2010. The comics reminded me of Watterson’s genius but also of his character, and although I loved the invitation to revisit his work, I hated to see people exploiting his creations online.

Part of me wanted to link to the strips here, but I didn’t because Watterson deserves better than to have his copyrights violated by one of his biggest fans.

The most you’ll get from me is the picture above of the many “Calvin and Hobbes” books I just pulled from storage so I can share them with our children.