Newborn baby monkey Dody cried so loudly that the whole space seemed to tremble with his pain. His tiny mouth opened wide, voice sharp and desperate, calling only for one thing—his mother’s milk. Hunger burned inside his fragile body, and he did not know how to wait. He only knew how to cry.
His small hands waved wildly, fingers curling and uncurling as if trying to grab the comfort he missed. Each scream carried fear, need, and confusion. Dody’s eyes were still new to the world, barely focused, yet already filled with urgency. Milk was warmth. Milk was safety. Without it, everything felt wrong.
Mom moved nearby, trying to prepare herself, but to Dody, time moved too slowly. Seconds felt like forever. His cries grew louder, shaking his tiny chest, his body arching with frustration. He kicked weakly, exhausted but unwilling to stop asking. For a newborn, crying was the only language he had.
At last, mom came close and lifted him gently. Dody screamed one final time, then felt her warmth, her familiar smell. The moment milk touched his lips, everything changed. His cries stopped instantly, replaced by desperate sucking and fast breathing. His hands relaxed, gripping softly instead of shaking.
Milk dribbled slightly as he drank too fast, but mom held him steady, patient and calm. With every swallow, his body settled. The anger faded. The fear melted away. His heartbeat slowed, matching his mother’s rhythm.
Soon, Dody’s eyes began to close. His mouth slowed, then rested. Full and safe, he leaned into his mom’s chest, completely trusting her again.
Mom watched him quietly, knowing this truth well. A newborn does not cry to be difficult. He cries to survive. And when love answers that cry, even the loudest screams turn into peaceful sleep. In her arms, Dody dreamed softly, surrounded by warmth, milk, and unconditional care.
