My child has, for the past week, been searching for the perfect dog. It started out a little shaky, with her wanting to bring home a puppy — any puppy — the moment she saw it. But thanks to the good folks at the Hawaii Humane Society she got a healty dose of reality.

The only stipulations I’ve placed on the potential pet is that it be small enough to sneak in and out of the hovel, and that it be quiet enough not to wake the neighbors. Beyond these two requirements, it’s up to her to choose.

So far she’s found three dogs to her liking, all of which were not puppies, at the Humane Society. Two of them have tested positive for heartworms and are therefore not candidates for our home. Neither she nor I have the financial resources or the patience to care for creatures that sick. The third, alas, was adopted to another family while she was actually on the property. By the time I was able to get there to see the full-blooded fox terrier it was gone.

Her other parent took her on an excursion to Pets Discount Warehouse near the major shopping mall where she fell head over heels for a black Pomeranian puppy. While Poms fit the bill for compactness and relative quiet, the price tag was a whopping $1,700. She called me from the store. When I explained that I could not afford that kind of expense it was as if I had reached through the phone and slapped her hard across the face.

While Cyd learns what it takes to be responsible about pet ownership, I am learning to suffer along with her. I was crestfallen when the fox terrier ended up missing. I ached that I couldn’t whip out a credit card and pay for the Pom. Every day that she goes puppyless my heart breaks. She’s doing everything right…or right enough…that there needs to be a reward. I know that when the dog finally finds us (we are having no luck finding it) she is going to be the happiest child in the neighborhood. That will make me the happiest mother on the planet.