After my newspaper column about hairbrushes, I heard from readers who understood my sentimental attachment to Brush. Lori wrote, "I am the exact same way except I have two - one for wet hair and one for dry. My husband and two daughters know that the quickest way to earn my wrath is for my brushes not to be where they are supposed to be." I'm not alone in nicknaming Brush, either; Devon had Brushy. They were inseparable. "Sometimes I would lift him out of my purse and let him 'look around' -- a practice which really sent my friends over the edge," Devon wrote. "So imagine their glee when our new beagle puppy chewed poor old (very old) Brushy into a hundred plastic pieces. I collected his bristles and mangled handle in a bag." Brushy, scattered in a Paris garden, has gone to a better place, Devon. I believe that, and you must too. And finally, if anyone knows how to find a big round vented brush called a Monte Carlo, I'll pass along the tip to Caryl.