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Brain Farts was a weekly humor column that ran in the Louisville Eccentric Observer from mid-2000 until the summer of 2002. It was, well, eccentric. And occasionally satirical. And sardonic. Some liked it, some hated it; some just didn't get it, and that's OK. There were times when I didn't get it either. I've compiled here some of the archives from Brain Farts for the enjoyment of friends, family and anyone else who happens by. I also have written some new Brain Farts, and added some links and other trivialities that you shouldn't be too concerned with.

Unless you're as bored as I am.

Brain Farts: This Week, In a Very Special Brain Farts ...
	By Kevin Gibson January 24, 2001

For those of you who have lost a pet recently, my heart goes out to you. But I won’t lie to you: It doesn’t necessarily get easier with time.

Last February, some of you may have read in this publication the story of how I lost my Lhasa apso, Toby, to cancer. It was the story of how I awoke the morning after his death to find his collar on my nightstand, obliterating a fleeting moment during which I had forgotten the painful truth. Toby died one year ago today, and I have to be honest: I’m not over it. I thought my friend Jan was exaggerating when she said the pain never goes away. Now I believe her.

On Christmas Eve, exactly 11 months after Toby’s death, I was at my parents’ house enjoying the usual celebration of food, family and gifts. My son was there, as was my girlfriend. After the ritual of gift opening was finished, someone suggested we watch old home movies, and the tape from Christmas 1991 found its way into the VCR.

I had forgotten that Toby was on that tape. I wasn’t prepared for it. After all, it is the only existing footage of him that I know of, because I record all my memories with still photos and words on paper. So, clearly, it was the first time in quite a while I had seen an image of my beloved pet up and around and looking vigorous.

I didn't think I was ever going to stop crying that night.

And dreams of him continue. Often, Toby is there, rambunctious and healthy, and it never crosses my mind during the dream that he won’t still be with me when I wake. His presence is just natural to my dream self — the way it should be and always will be. Then I wake up and experience the loss one more time.

I’m sure my friends think I’m an idiot. Toby’s collar hangs from the rearview mirror of my Jeep now, adorning the vehicle we cruised around in with the top down on summer afternoons. Whenever I need to feel his presence, I simply jingle the tag. It’s the same sound as when he would follow me from room to room, wanting only to be wherever I was.

I also have his picture on my desk at work, and I’m often asked, “Is that your dog?” Usually, I merely say “yes.” No sense telling the story again. In my mind and in my heart, he will always be my dog. It doesn’t matter that he’s no longer here.

So as you no doubt already guessed, I haven’t gotten a new dog. Not yet. But I will, in time. And if you’ve lost yours recently, don’t be in any hurry. Just give yourself some time to mourn. But most of all, enjoy your dreams to the fullest.

E-mail the writer at kgramone@aol.com. And if you have a dog, pet him once for me, OK?