Once upon a time there was a funny dog named Crispin’s Crispian. He was named Crispin’s Crispian because he belonged to himself.So begins the story of a dog who runs bang into a little boy, who also belongs to himself. This quirky, breathtakingly illustrated story is one of Margaret Wise Brown’s best.

Mister Dog: The Dog Who Belonged to Himself

Caution - Spoilers.  “When a man’s best friend is his dog, that dog has a problem.” - Edward Abbey  "Mr. Dog" (which is the original title of this book) is one of my favorite books of all time. My mother read it to me as a child (1950's) and I read to my own children. They turned out just fine, thank you, despite all the "bad influences" lurking in this book that people want to complain about. Margaret Wise Brown based Crispin's Crispian on her own dog (also named Crispin's Crispian). The literary Crispin's Crispian (the dog who belonged to himself) is an independent, kindly, grown-up pooch who walks mainly on his hind legs with a walking stick, he wears an old bathrobe and slippers, eats bread and milk for breakfast and is fond of strawberries. He lives in a two-story dog-house surrounded by a white picket fence, dogwood trees and dog-tooth violets, with a kitchen, dining room and bedroom upstairs. There's no mention of a bathroom, so I assume he lets himself out when he "needs to see a dog about a man". While out for a walk one fine morning, he encounters a little boy, who is shown sitting on the bank of a stream, fishing. Mr. Dog befriends and "adopts" the "boy's little boy" who also belongs to himself. After a morning of play, the boy and Crispin's Crispian bond, buy, eat and consume with gusto a home-cooked dinner together chez Crispian. At the end of the day, after tidying up the house, they fall asleep in their own little beds and "dream their own dreams." It's the story of a perfect day, innocent friendship and love at first sight. A perfect bedtime book. What's not to like? Lots, evidently.   So what if Crispin's Crispian smokes a pipe? He doesn't smoke it indoors. He doesn't wear pants, either. If you're expecting Children and Families, the Vice Squad and/or Animal Control to come crashing through the door of the two-story dog house and haul this canine miscreant and his underage accomplice away, you'll have to wait for the sequel. Dogs like MEAT, not tofu. Mr. Dog also likes raw eggs, God forbid. And the Boy's Little Boy balanced his meal with a "bright green vegetable" and gave some to Crispin's Crispian to put in his bone soup. Reading between the lines, I'm sure Mr. Dog's bread was whole grain and his milk was skim. He probably purchased the strawberries he liked so from his local organic farmer's market. Moreover, he bought his bone from his local butcher (not Piggly Wiggly) and took it home in a brown paper bag (not plastic). After dinner, Mr. Dog and the boy's little boy washed and dried the dishes, and put everything its place. For its portrayal of good and balanced eating habits (dairy, grains, meat and leafy green vegetables), supporting local growers and merchants, and praising cleanliness and order, I'd give this book "two paws up" for intelligent, responsible life choices and habits.   Just remember, Snoopy was delusional, Lady and the Tramp ate spaghetti, and, Lassie, probably, never came home.

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