In a world that often moves too fast and notices too little, Brooks invites pause.
It’s not just her creamy coat or soulful eyes that earn her admiring stares in grocery store aisles or in airports. It’s the calm nature and comforting presence she offers, even to those just meeting her for the first time. To many, she’s beautiful. To some, she’s astonishing. But to Katie Redman, she is everything.
“She gave me my life back in ways I never imagined possible,” Redman often repeats, a mantra of gratitude and awe at the profound difference one faithful friend can make.
For years, Katie had battled against a relentless enemy: her own body. The weight of chronic pain and an endless cycle of misdiagnoses left her feeling trapped and alone. Routine actions became monumental challenges. “I would sneeze, and I would sprain my back. I would laugh, and I would sprain my back. I would squat to pick something up, and sprain my back.” In these moments, every simple act was a battle, and every day was a quiet war against despair. Once an enthusiastic tennis player and active mom with her two kids, she found herself confined to waiting in bed — for weeks or even months at a time — her vibrant spirit slowly fading behind the veil of physical suffering.
Amid all of this uncertainty, one conversation with her doctor sparked a flicker of hope. With a mix of desperation and quiet perseverance, she asked, “I don’t know if a service animal would help me. Do you think that would help me?” It was a moment of vulnerability that opened the door to a new possibility. Despite the hesitations and the risks that came with trying something different, Katie took a chance. And that chance led her to Brooks.
The little furry bundle she welcomed at the Northwest Arkansas airport six years ago arrived in Redman’s life like a gentle promise in the midst of chaos. “I brought home a small but determined Golden Retriever with a big purpose — becoming my mobility service dog. From the start, she was more than a pet; she was my partner, my protector, and my independence.” In the face of all the uncertainties — Katie’s health, the challenges of training during COVID, and the high expectations placed on any animal that would join her life — Brooks’ inherent calmness and readiness to embrace her new role immediately captured Redman’s heart.
Even in the earliest days of her training, Katie could already see how Brooks was changing her life. Actions that might seem trivial to others — from fetching medicine to handling laundry — were lifelines for Katie. Simple tasks like folding laundry took on new meaning as Brooks meticulously helped with each item, a small yet profound reminder that every little act of care contributed to reclaiming normalcy. “It would take us a long time to fold one load of clothes out of that dryer, but she got every single article out of there and sits up and hands it to me, one by one,” Katie reflects, every gesture a reaffirmation of her regained dignity. Her ability to carry out the most basic functions, like getting up to go to the bathroom, was no longer dictated by having to ask for someone else’s help.
Brooks’ impact extended far beyond the realm of daily tasks and routines. With the pup by her side, Katie dared to reclaim parts of herself that she had thought were forever lost. She pursued new dreams, like earning a real estate license — a field that once seemed unreachable. Still, the enduring pain could sometimes feel like it dictated Redman’s life, exacerbating underlying small fiber neuropathy and causing other conditions like POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome). “Random strangers would find me in a parking lot passed out from the pain,” she remembers, her voice catching with emotion. Often, she just needed blood flow to return to her head, so Brooks was trained to lie on her legs, protecting and comforting until the spell passed. “When my legs failed me, she became them — pulling me in and out of buildings, guiding me up stairs, and standing guard when I passed out in public. The day she pulled me in a wheelchair, I realized just how deep her devotion ran. She wasn’t just trained to help me; she chose to be my strength when I had none.”
A nearly decade-long journey seeking answers to the cause of her condition finally brought Redman to the Mayo Clinic where the chairman of orthopedic surgery was able to confirm it wasn’t Multiple Sclerosis, it wasn’t a neurodegenerative disease — the issue was her SI joint; her hip needed to be fused to her spine. But the diagnosis itself set off another period of frustration and disappointment as Katie recalls years of back and forth with her insurance: appeal, denial, appeal, denial. Through it all, Brooks was her beacon of unwavering support. A serendipitous combination of life events and her worsening condition eventually, miraculously, qualified her for the clinic’s financial aid and two years ago this March, Redman had the life-altering surgery.
How’s her mobility now? “I am training for the Bentonville half marathon,” she shares with a smile.
The relief, gratitude, and awe are writ clear on Katie’s face when she reaches this part of her story, noting that Brooks’ constant companionship and reassurance was the only reason she made it through. But her own openness is already having a wider impact than she could have foreseen. Redman has two friends who, after watching her story unfold on social media, suspected they may be experiencing the same thing. Her surgeon has confirmed even her own daughter will need the procedure as well. “I know that sharing my story can help people,” Katie asserts.
To qualify for a working service animal requires a permanent disability diagnosis, which Redman received during doctors’ inability to find the root cause of her pain. When she reached one-year post-op, though, her restrictions were lifted — a dream she’d already accepted wouldn’t be part of her story. “You have to mourn the fact that you’re never going to be able to hold a grandchild. You have to let tennis go. I thought I would never run again. Just mourn it now; it’s not going to happen. And now I can,” she says with tears in her eyes. “I have a tennis lesson tomorrow. I play Pickleball for fun. I run the mountain biking trails. I do like to be active.”
These are hobbies she maintains without her cream-colored shadow in tow as running is “not Brooks’ thing,” she admits with a laugh. Unless, of course, it’s running in a creek or playing with her brother, Apollo — Brooks’ sibling from another litter who lives with Redman’s daughter nearby in Bella Vista. The foursome has spent countless hours watching the gorgeous Arkansas sunsets from her daughter’s home overlooking Hole 1 on the Dogwood Hills Golf Course, neighbors even coming out to enjoy the sight of the two pups playing together.
Thanks to the success of the surgery, Brooks has retired from her service role, though she’s still Katie’s protector, always watching, always ready. Simple personality quirks like a fierce love for duck jerky and the comical “pig noises” Brooks often makes at mealtime used to make Redman’s days a little brighter when the shadows of pain loomed large. Now, they’re emblematic of her dog just getting to be a dog. “I am so grateful that she gets to enjoy this later part of life,” she remarks, painting a picture of a gentle creature relishing the simple pleasures of a fenced backyard, playful chases after a neighborhood bunny, and peaceful days sprawled out in the sunshine.
As Brooks takes her well-earned place as the Celebrate Arkansas 2025 Pet of the Year, the world gets to see what Katie always knew: that behind those soft eyes and mellow disposition is a heart that carried another’s burdens, every day, with grace. When asked why she nominated Brooks, Redman didn’t talk about the long list of tasks her service animal could do or the places they’d gone together. She spoke of a bond that defies explanation — a connection born out of shared struggle, unyielding loyalty, and the kind of love that changes everything. She talked about the way Brooks made her brave.
“Her life gave me the ability to have a life. That is what I think when I think about Brooks, and that’s a sacrifice she didn’t willingly take on. She was asked. We asked her to do it, and she did,” she says, her voice thick with emotion and gratitude. “She never once hesitated, never once gave up on me, even when my body did. Though she’s retired, my heart still beats for her. The Lord gave me Brooks when I needed her most. She is my guardian and the reason I can stand tall today. She’s just a great dog. And she gave me a life.”
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