Klay, the little baby monkey, had been unusually moody all morning. His tiny brows were furrowed, and every touch, every sound, made him twitch with frustration. He sat stiffly in the corner of his warm enclosure, his arms crossed tightly, letting out soft but sharp cries whenever someone got too close. No one had done anything to upset him—yet he was clearly angry.
The caregiver, Mei, knelt beside him gently. “Klay, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” she whispered. She reached out her hand, offering a soft banana slice. But Klay turned his head away, lips trembling. His little chest rose and fell fast. He wasn’t just angry—he was overwhelmed.
He had been rescued only a week ago from a loud, crowded area where he was separated from his mother too early. Though safe now, Klay still carried the fear of abandonment. Any loud sound or sudden movement brought it all back, and today seemed especially hard for him.
Mei tried something different. She sat nearby without touching him, humming softly. Slowly, she unwrapped his favorite toy — a piece of cloth with his mom’s scent, saved during rescue. Klay turned his head slightly. He sniffed. Then, with trembling fingers, he grabbed the cloth and held it to his chest, rocking slowly.
Minutes passed. His angry cries quieted into soft whimpers. Then silence. He laid his head in Mei’s lap, exhausted, his stress slowly melting away.
He wasn’t acting out just to be difficult. He was still learning how to feel safe again. And today, he needed more patience than anything.
As he fell asleep holding the cloth close, Mei gently covered him with a light towel. “You’re okay now, Klay,” she whispered.
