Monk on His Own But before I get to what brought Monk to my door, maybe I’d better go back and tell you what happened after I left him on the sidewalk outside the Federal Building (which, of course, I only found out about later from everyone involved). He stood at the curb, waiting for me to come back. He was certain that I wasn’t serious about leaving him behind and had just driven around the block to make some irrational point that only I, in my female delirium, understood. But after ten long minutes he realized that I wasn’t joking and that I’d done something truly insane. I’d abandoned him. For the first time in eight years, he was entirely on his own. Even worse, he was on his own on a sidewalk crowded with people. And their filth. And their germs. And their pets. And the gum, dirt, garbage, excrement, spit, food, and other lethal detritus, not to mention the uneven surfaces, cracks, and paving materials that were underfoot.
