Of female hormones and eau de toilette

Panting ... heavy breathing ... moaning ... watching her every move ... groaning ... drooling ...

It probably sounds like an avuncular pervert from your childhood, but it's just Orbit following mom around.

Yes, my so-called girlfriends are back. For 19 long days, this time.

Kariba, whose ancestors were bred to hunt in the African veldt, is easily as tall as dad. And Orbit, a hirsute sheepdog, has a penchant for chasing approaching cars. When the three of us take mom for a walk around the neighborhood in the evenings, we usually run around her in circles, making her trip on our leashes. I'm usually sandwiched between the girls (and not in a nice way). The neighbors shake their heads and wonder if mom has finally lost it, or if she's illegally operating a dog-sitting service in a residential area.

The other night, mom caught Orbit drinking out of the toilet bowl. After she threw her out of the bathroom, we found Orbit downstairs, licking little Kuki on the face as she lay giggling on the floor, shrieking, "Tickle, tickle!"

The way she reacted, you'd think mom has never put anything non-food related in her mouth.

All this extra estrogen around the house is taking its toll on me. The females are loud, vocal and prone to mood swings - one minute, they're all over me like I'm their best buddy, and the next, they look right through me. I'm confused. Am I supposed to humor them or ignore them?

Hmmm ... maybe I'll just ask my human for help; he's bound to know something about mysterious feminine wiles.

Then again, maybe not; he's in the doghouse a lot.