Reassurance Weasels and Other Neurotic Animals

I broke up with my long-term boyfriend in February. Of course I looked at his website to see what he was up to. There was the regular inventory of photos of his cats. A business school trip to China. Otherwise there was nothing new ... hold on ... except a photograph of a kitten I had never seen before, with the simple caption "Maxie - the cute orange kitten.”

Who does this kitten belong to?

Why the effusive caption?

I forwarded my mother the link to his website. Nevermind China, or the tenured cats, contentedly representing the status quo, the orange kitten was the first and only thing she saw. She asked me the unanswerable. "Who is Maxie?"

"I don't know," I replied. "She probably belongs to his parents or his new lady love."

Minutes later: "Probably.”

She didn’t! (I connected the "probably" to "new lady love.”)

I emailed some friends angrily, "Why is my mother trying to push my buttons?!"

My most honest friend - sitting on a perch only an engaged woman has admission to - was the first and only to response to my electronic outcry: "The poor woman was supposed to say, 'There's no way he would get a kitty with anyone else, sweetiepie!'? You're such a reassurance weasel."

I stared at those two words indignantly: reassurance and weasel. Seeking ... hm ... sympathy, I IM girl2.

girl1: i can't believe she called me that. i hate her
girl1: i AM a reassurance weasel
girl1: i need to stop
girl2: everyone is
girl1: i'm pretty bad though
girl2: i am refraining from saying you are not

I rest my case.