Weasel?

All week she was my weasel, busily defying me to catch her on camera as she whipped about the place - you can get an idea of her enthusiastic footwork from the top photo of her prints in the snow - and after all that, I think she maybe wasn't a weasel at all.  I think she may have been a stoat.  Which is fine by me, and may explain why every time I squeaked "Weasel!" and dived for the camera, she paid absolutely no attention.  Got leaves to move.  Got dances to do.