First, I would like to extend my gratitude for all your support and kind words since Lalla’s passing on Monday. I am sorry that I cannot at present offer any advice in general, as I’m only now exiting “shock” mode. But I would like to share with you some thoughts/musings from the last few days, which may offer some measure of positivity and/or insight.

Tools for coping in early days: this forum, obviously – that’s you. And especially Jerry and his family. If Rene hadn’t been online with me that very evening, I wouldn’t be able to type now. My previous experience with loss was my father’s passing, nearly eight years ago. According to Jewish tradition, the family “sits” for seven days, mourns for thirty (after which the headstone is revealed) and it takes a year to recuperate. Let’s just say (and to quote Daniel Day-Lewis: “… of course I’m screwed up. I’m half-Irish and half-Jewish) that I prefer the time-honored tradition of maintaining a certain measure of inebriation.

Talk to your vet. Go over every detail, because practicalities are a reassurance. I thought – and I am sure others did, too – had I known earlier of the many tumors the vet found, would I have extended Lalla’s life with surgery, chemo/radiation whatever? The answer in Lalla’s particular case is no.

Lalla was an absolute medical miracle because she lived just about two years after her amputation surgery without any surgical intervention, chemo or/and radiation. She never indicated she was in pain or discomfort. She left on her own terms, at the right time before suffering a miserable and painful death – which according to the vet, was imminent. Her resilience is something that has confused many since her amputation, and even more so since Monday. I am very proud of her.

The thing I am currently finding difficult to deal with is what I can only define as a whole new body language; she just isn’t there, physically. I’m used to a set routine with her, and now I am even in situations where there’s no requirement for timing – walks, meal times, making sure she gets her medication on time. For five years I took Lalla to the beach practically every evening, and on the day she died, come seven o’clock, I made myself go down to the beach alone and I will do so in her honor every day. That’s where her spirit soared and still does.

And yes, those closest to you may react in ways that are more intense than you feel at the beginning (shock mode); reassuring and comforting them does help you as well as them. That’s why, and as I promised Rene, I will be back for you and be there for you all as you have for Lalla – and me.

Nitey nite from Tel Aviv, with all our love – and thank you so much again

Lalla and Sasha