Reading, for me, is entertainment and an escape from the real world. But it can also inform and stretch the boundaries of the life I live.
I remember reading this as a child and being completely in the moment with Ribsy during all his adventures. Re-reading as an adult, I still had fun with his story, but the realism of Henry Huggins and Ramona slips here a little. For the most part, Ribsy behaves as a dog, but I suppose it's hard to tell a dog's story without anthropomorphising (is that a word?) him a bit. Have I mentioned how much I adore Louis Darling's illustrations?