A lady at my gym asked me what I do for a living. “I’m a veterinary pathologist,” I said and then paused, smiling, as I waited for the inevitable furrowing of brows and subsequent barrage of questions about my line of work. “You’re a…what?” she asked, her voice trailing off at the unexpected constellation of words I had concocted. “I’m a veterinary pathologist,” I repeated, more slowly. “I evaluate and interpret pathology specimens.” The brows relaxed, slightly, but I could tell she was still perplexed. I volunteered a slightly longer explanation: “I went to veterinary school, and then I completed a residency in pathology. Now I look at cytology cases (sometimes called needle biopsies) for a diagnostic lab.” “Oh,” she said, understanding more but still not enough to really know how I play a role in keeping pets healthy.