My daughter loves animals.

She loves them so much that she wants to be a veterinarian when she grows up.

She cannot stand to see a sick or hurt animal. If she had her way, our house would be converted into a small zoo. We would have our two dogs, of course, but we would also have cats, rats, mice, birds, bunnies, guinea pigs, pot-bellied pigs, fish, frogs and even a lizard or two.

Unfortunately for my daughter and thankfully for us, Mom is allergic to most of these critters — and the ones that she is not allergic to are simply too creepy to tolerate. I think Mom would sooner have a bunny and a runny nose than a pet lizard. But of all the animals in the world, what my daughter wants more than any other is a mouse.

I do not know whose idea it was to turn a mouse into a pet, but it seems bizarre to me.

Let's face it: They are not very bright. You can't teach them to sit, roll over or fetch. I am not sure, but I do not think they would do well on a leash, either. They are not that clean and seem prone to carry disease (can you spell b-u-b-o-n-i-c?).

Near as I can tell, the mouse has only two things going for it: low maintenance and the fact that it is not a rat.

Still, my daughter wants a mouse. However, it seems that every time we get close to getting the critter, our quest is thwarted. A few months ago, one of her friends from school told her that that her mouse was pregnant and that my daughter could have one of the keiki. A few weeks later, we got the sad news that the momma mouse was not a momma at all. Evidently, the mouse was actually a pig and simply ate her way to obesity.

Then, last month, my daughter came into some cold hard cash, bought the fancy mouse house, and was ready to get the food, bedding and the mouse itself. Sadly, she lost her money and could not afford the mouse accouterments. (This is another story for a later time, when we can all laugh about it.)

Finally, we would have gotten the mouse last week, but we have a new problem. In fact, it is a mouse problem. It seems that while we were renovating our house, a field mouse was making house!

We found ripped-up stationery and mouse droppings under the computer printer.

Ironically, now before my daughter can get a pet mouse, I have to hunt down the wild mouse. Then I have to explain to my daughter the difference between the two and why one will meet a sudden and untimely death while the other lives out its life in a fully furnished plastic condominium.

We have all heard the saying "I smell a rat." Well, I smell a mouse.

There is a mouse in my house, and even after I catch the little bugger, there will be another in my future.

I could be wrong, but I don't think mice can do tricks. But if there is a way, my daughter will find it.

Who knows? By this time a month from now, she may have her mouse, and it may be playing dead. And the wild mouse ... well, he will not be playing at all.

Michael C. DeMattos is on the faculty at the University of Hawai'i-Manoa, School of Social Work. He lives in Kane'ohe with his wife, daughter and two dogs.