I miss seeing Aussie running and cavorting in the water on warm summer days. This is not the time for that.

I went to Windy Hollow Veterinary Clinic every single day this past week. Aussie’s paw is slowly healing, but discharge continues along with inflammation, so they wanted to check and rebandage her. Yesterday they added a second antibiotic to her regimen.

They have a big practice (and are therefore in the midst of building a bigger facility across the road) and every day the receptionist has to scan the schedule, eyes narrowed, to find a time in which I could return with Aussie the next day. She always begins by asking me what my schedule limitations are and how flexible I am, but it’s obviously hard for her to fit me in day by day.

A couple of days ago she was flummoxed, so the doctor looked over her shoulder and pointed to times that had been blocked off, probably for lunch, and told her to schedule me there. Yesterday a vet came in from her adjoining home just to look over Aussie and rebandage her. I can’t speak highly enough of them.

The first time Aussie went through this I was right there to see what they were doing, but the following days I preferred to wait in the small reception area, sit and relax, look at the people coming in with leashed dogs or crated cats, and find out what ails them. I also enjoyed watching how the clinic runs.

While doing that on Thursday, it suddenly occurred to me that Windy Hollow has only women working there. The two vets are women, the technicians are women, the assistants are women, as is the receptionist, who was training another receptionist—all women. I commented about this to the receptionist, who said that of course they had had men working there too, but right now it turns out to be all women.

“We’re lucky,” she said, “we’re all close.”

They work closely, too. One afternoon the place was full, people coming in and out with their animals or picking up medications and special food, FedEx and UPS drivers bringing in boxes and needing signatures, surgery in the very back, two phone lines ringing without stop.

The operation worked like a Swiss watch. There was barely any need to talk, each knew just what to do, multiple hand-offs of files, vials, and bottles. Since the reception area is so small, they schedule clients as to make sure there’s only one crated cat and one leashed dog at a time. Naturally, there’s occasional overlap, at which point they’ll usher one pet to an available treatment room or else suggest they go for a walk on the pasture outside.

They are unfazed in the face of potential bedlam, nervousness and upset have no place there. They know well not only their respective jobs but also have a sense of the entire clinic, where each person and animal were and what needed to get done at each moment. They read the room while they worked.

I also appreciated the welcome we—people, cats and dogs—received. They were so warm each time it was hard to believe that just 24 hours had passed since our last visit. People popping in to just pick up special food or medications could never guess, from the welcome they received, how busy and crowded the clinic was.

I thought to myself: This is how women work. Work doesn’t come at the expense of connection, the two are completely intertwined. They have the same rules and boundaries as other professionals—in fact they’re highly professional—but they make eye contact instead of just staring at a computer screen, smile and laugh when the dog suddenly slides off the scale they’re trying to put her on, and show deep sympathy with the suffering of animals.

I will probably see men there in future years. My guess is that any man who works there in some capacity will absorb this beautiful energy, and it will transform him and his work.

I am not saying that I haven’t run into female medical professionals who didn’t communicate and just looked at computer screens all the time, of course I have. By the same token, I have certainly met my share of friendly individual male doctors and nurses. But as more women join the medical profession, more and more female friends and acquaintances, including one male, tell me they insist on female doctors and physician assistants. They sense something else at work.

That’s the energy that surrounded me as I waited every day while Aussie was getting her paw cleaned with solution, a check of her toenails and swollen toes, and new bandaging. It was there in the back treatment room and in the front reception area, women at work, lightening one’s worries, giving out senior discounts (important for me this past week), alleviating pain.