In the 1970s, my Dad, a veterinarian, hired a woman to be his associate. Many in our small southern New Jersey town were mystified – others were outraged. “Why would you want to work with a girl?” his friends and clients asked. “Will she be strong enough to lift big dogs?
What if she faints at the sight of blood or can’t stop crying when animals die?” It’ll turn out fine, my father told the naysayers. “When I was in veterinary school,” he said, “the women were tougher than all of us.