I lost my little black cat Crescent on that same night. I was uncertain of his age. About two weeks earlier he had disappeared for the better part of a day, and returned a little muddy around midnight and we had a very good reunion. He didn't come in at night this next time and I found him in a special spot where it looked like he had a renal failure. Then I read that Pavarotti had died and having already found my self waxing philosophic about the spirit and how it is free, but then had a second thought about how wonderful a live performance is, and how in either case there is an empty place where
someone engaging once had us capitivated and how much we will miss that.