It was a quiet morning in the sanctuary, but one tiny voice pierced the stillness — a soft, aching cry.
Little baby monkey Mary lay curled up on the ground, her face pressed into the dirt, her tiny arms limp by her sides. Her soft belly growled with hunger, and her eyes blinked slowly, wet with tears.
She had been waiting. Hoping.
But her milk hadn’t come yet.
Mary was still new to the world, a fragile little soul trying to understand how things worked. She didn’t know patience — only the emptiness in her tummy and the comfort that only Mama’s milk could bring.
With each passing minute, her whimpers grew louder. Her cry wasn’t loud or wild—it was the kind that broke hearts. A quiet, pleading sob, full of sadness and longing.
She tried to lift her head but flopped back down. Her strength was fading, not because she was weak, but because her little body craved the warmth of food and the touch of her mama.
The caretakers nearby rushed over when they heard her tiny sobs. One gently scooped her up, whispering soft words as they brought her close.
“Shh, Mary… milk is coming.”
The bottle was warm, filled with the milk she needed. As it touched her lips, Mary’s sad cry turned into soft suckles. Her little hands grabbed at the bottle, eyes slowly closing in relief.
Within moments, her pain faded, and peace returned to her tiny body.
Fed, comforted, and held tight, Mary was no longer alone on the ground.
