GILLETTE — Ziva’s whole face smiles when she looks at her owner, which is almost all the time.
And most 14-year-old dogs don’t pounce and play with as much energy and joy as Ziva does at her home, who doesn’t mind when her bad hip gives way and she hits the ground.
That’s because Ziva has a lot of time to make up for after disappearing for 10 years before amazingly making her way home to Campbell County, Wyoming.
She was found within sight of her owner’s house, a prodigal pooch whose reappearance stunned her owners and validated their belief that miracles happen.
Meeting Ziva
Ziva was just 8 weeks old in 2012 when she came to live with Gillette natives Clark and Vicki Kissack.
They raised two sons, Garrett and Justin, on their place 11 miles outside Gillette, where they own and operate an oil field business called Kissack Resources.
Their previous dog, Shep, had died of old age and Ziva — a blue heeler out of a pit bull — was the pick of her litter with a unique grulla coat and white-banded face.
“She was absolutely beautiful,” Vicki told Cowboy State Daily.
The pup quickly fell in love with Justin, who was 17 at the time.
They went fishing together. She went to college with him at Chadron State. And he had a special whistle just for her.
Most summer mornings, just after Ziva awakened in her bed next to Vicki, Clark would ask her, “Wheeerrrrre’s Justin?”
The dog would bolt for the stairs and barrel down to Justin’s room to pounce onto her best friend.
This made Ziva so excited that sometimes they had to spell his name out when speaking it aloud to keep her from going nuts with excitement.
Ziva was part of the family.
The First Time, Then A Second
That’s why in 2016 when Ziva disappeared, the Kissacks drove up and down roads, frantically searched ditches, and posted lots of flyers.
Their yard wasn’t fenced, but their place is on multiple acres with stock pens and a barn, basically a mini-ranch, Vicki said.
Vicki doesn’t like chaining dogs or kenneling them.
Plus, the Kissacks have lots of neighbors where they’ve lived for 21 years, and Vicki’s the one who started a Neighborhood Watch program. Everyone knows who they are and where they live.
They also knew Ziva.
After a few weeks, Ziva showed up triumphantly, dragging a strange rope that she’d chewed in half.
But not long after that, it happened again. Ziva disappeared without a trace.
The Kissacks again searched long and hard.
Weeks turned into months without a single clue as to where she went. Eventually, Clark was convinced that Ziva had been shot by a neighbor or killed on the highway and the carcass removed.
“She just vanished,” said Vicki, who always felt like her dog was still alive. “She was tenacious and very athletic.
“Because she came back the first time, I figured that if she could come back, she would.”
A Facebook Emotion Bomb
Ziva never did, though.
Guilt racked Vicki, alternating with anger at the possibility that a pet so special had been stolen. Devastated, she tried to heal her pain and adopted a new pup.
But Vicki knew within days it wasn’t working. She gave up and rehomed the dog.
As it does, time passed in a blur until it had been a decade since Ziva disappeared.
Vicki and Clark became grandparents. They built a new house. Three years ago, a roan mare was stolen from their pasture and has never been found, despite Clark searching overhead from airplanes.
That felt familiar — and horrible.
But early one morning in March, they were having their usual coffee in the kitchen before work when Clark scrolled across a Facebook post.
It was a photo of a dog picked up along the road so close to their home — not the one Ziva ran away from — that the pooch was within sight of.
“He showed it to me and said, ‘Does this dog look familiar?’” recalled Vicki.
It was unmistakably Ziva.
The photo had been posted exactly 23 minutes earlier. The dog had been picked up just yards away at a spot that is easily visible through the Kissacks’ kitchen window.
“I was frantic,” said Vicki. “I replied to the post, ‘That’s my dog that’s been missing for 10 years!’”
But by the time the poster called Vicki, the county animal-control unit had already picked up Ziva.
Yup, That’s My Dog
Then came the problem of how she was to prove she owned the dog a decade earlier.
Vicki called both local vet clinics, hoping they had photos or any records from when she’d spayed Ziva.
She and Clark had discussed microchipping the dog after they lost her the first time, but Vicki couldn’t remember if they had.
No matter. She was ready for battle and to “drive people crazy” to get Ziva back.
Her grandchildren watched her cry happy tears as she drove them to school that morning. Then she went to work.
Finally, a call from a local vet rang through. She had chipped Ziva in 2016! The name of the manufacturer of the chip? “Home Again.”
Vicki wasted no time reading off the chip number to the county shelter. Yes, they told her, it matches. This is your dog.
“When I walked in there that afternoon, I told them, ‘I’ve had more time to think about this,’” Vicki said, her face turning serious.
“If a family had her and they have children, I will not take her away from children. That would be devastating,” she added.
Reunion
But nobody called looking for Ziva.
Vicki went to pick up her dog, imagining a movie scene wherein Ziva jumps into her arms and licks her face.
“When I went in to get her, I knew rationally in my head that 10 years had gone by,” said Vicki. “But in my heart, I guess I expected to see the dog I’d lost — not an elderly animal that didn’t know me.”
Vicki got on her knees and called Ziva, not knowing if she remembered the name.
The terrified and scrawny dog could barely get around because of her bad hips, was deaf, and had blurry vision.
“I was down on my knees, in tears, and she walked the other direction,” recalled Vicki.
When they got her home, Ziva never stopped pacing and wouldn’t eat or drink. It appeared that she’d traveled a great distance.
“Finally, I grabbed her and just held her so she’d stop pacing,” said Vicki, who hauled the very dehydrated Ziva to the vet clinic repeatedly.
In the meantime, desperate for some sign that Ziva remembered them, Vicki took her back to their old house and helped her up the stairs.
Those were the same stairs she used to bound down in glee every morning to get to her best friend, Justin.
“She sniffed around and then turned to look at me and wagged her stub,” said Vicki. “She remembered the stairs!”
‘Live Like A Queen’
Six weeks after that fateful passerby picked up Ziva, the Kissacks are very protective of their long-lost dog.
Vicki has learned that if she leaves town overnight, Ziva will stop eating and get quite ill. Now, Vicki takes her slow and feeble companion along.
Ziva needs to be constantly touching her owner. She’ll stand on Vicki’s foot or lean against her leg, and wants to be with her always.
Vicki sees that same old young look in Ziva’s eyes as she wiggles and leaps through the air toward Vicki, or backs up to her for a scratch.
“She knows she’s with her family now,” said Vicki. “Clark and I decided she’ll live the rest of her life like a queen.
“It’s been a journey caring for an old dog again, and my veterinarian has been very good with my emotions.”
In fact, Vicki hadn’t been aware of the depth of her actual grief a decade ago.
“It all washed back over me that week she was found,” said Vicki. “I’d never realized how much emotion I’d repressed over this.
“All I knew was that I hadn’t allowed myself to attach to a dog ever since.”
As a full-time general manager of three funeral homes in northeast Wyoming, Vicki and her team act as first responders to families in times of trauma.
That means that, too often, Vicki has seen loss and confusion written all over the faces of children dragged through funeral services.
“It’s the same way I felt after losing Ziva,” said Vicki. “I thought, what’s the first experience most kids have with death? The loss of their pet.”
That’s led to another inspiration brought on by Ziva finding her way home.
“This September, I’m organizing a collective pet memorial service to let children come spend time with those who notice their grief to teach kids their grief is real,” she said. “I might take Ziva and tell them, ‘I have felt what you feel.’”
