Toby is my 30-pound King Charles cavalier. He has what, some would say, is brown and white hair with spots and a kiss on his head, as well as eyes as big as ET.

It has often been said that dogs are like their owners, and I would say my two dogs are friendly, warm and loving — so far so good.

Duke is laid back and as gentle as they come.

Toby, on the other hand, has been vaccinated with hyperactivity pills and is not typical of his breed.

He talks, yes, he really talks. Moans and groans and whines and yips in response to what is going on around him.

My one son has a cavalier and told me of their calm and demure nature — I got the antithesis of that.

Despite discipline, reprimands, rewards and anything else that anyone told me, he goes nuts with company, and when I come and go. He is supposedly my daughter’s dog but she has been out of the house and away at college for four of his six years.

She vows that when she finishes school he will be going with her but this person is not quiet as excited about those possibilities because despite his short-comings, he makes me laugh and he listens intently and then talks back, sometimes to my dismay (not unlike a teenager).

I am the best commercial for Dyson’s sweepers, with two dogs that shed a lot. Toby has been known to crawl up on the lounger chair my husband sits in at night and sneak up and try to sit on top of his bald head and the typical tirade of getting the dog down just melts me and sends me into giggling that only agitates the situation — but yet it goes on most nights.

Toby will chase a ball all night long and I have a battery-operated toy that puts him into a frenzy. And by the time I turn it off, he has not only had his aerobic exercise he has cleared his lungs.

Toby is waiting at the door each day when I come home, and says goodbye each morning I leave.

He plagues my golden retriever to the point that Duke will gently lift a paw and place it on him as much to say, “OK, son, that is enough!”

The dogs are companions for each other and they get a reward when we go to the bank or go downtown and drive through McDonald’s for a treat, with nothing on it, as catsup and mustard are difficult to get out of carpet in the car.

His playful banter is often what cheers me up, and his dedication to a very dear friend is heartwarming.

At 92, this sweet woman calls Toby Teddy, but when he loses interest, she will pull his tail and off they go again — he licking her and jumping up and down, and she taunting him.