Connections....

We're all connected.

Mom mentioned last night that about 3 p.m. Sunday she felt sad and didn't want to go in the house. She went out with my Dad and came back just shortly before I called to tell her Marla died earlier, about 5 p.m. that day.

Things like this happen in my family. I'm thinking Marla's periodic yowls on Sunday were not cries of pain, but her way of talking to various people. She always was a talkative cat, both in meows and in stares.

I remember one time Marla was meowing and Tim didn't know what she wanted. I came downstairs, she meowed at me, and I said, "Oh, OK, here it is," picked her up and showed her where the litter box was. (It was always in a certain spot in my parent's house but Marla forgot.)

"How do you know what she wanted?" Tim asked.

"You just do," I replied.