In the gentle morning light, baby monkey Rara stirred awake, blinking slowly as her little tummy rumbled. She yawned, rubbed her sleepy eyes, and looked around with hope. No milk bottle in sight.
Within seconds, her tiny lips puckered, and a soft whimper escaped. “Eeeh… eeeh…” Her cry wasn’t loud—just sweet and gentle, like a whisper calling for love. Her arms reached out in slow motion, as if reaching for someone invisible.
She knew what she wanted. Milk. Warm, sweet milk. That was the only thing on her sleepy little mind.
“Eeeehhhh!” she cried a bit louder now, her round eyes shining with tears. Her soft fur ruffled slightly as she shifted, scooting toward the edge of the cushion she had been curled up on.
From the kitchen, her caretaker heard the familiar little sound. “Oh no, is my baby Rara crying again?” came a soft voice.
Rara heard it too—and her crying paused for just a moment, nose twitching with hope. But then—still no bottle.
She tilted her head back and gave her best dramatic baby monkey cry, a sound so heart-melting and innocent, it could make even the coldest heart soften.
Finally, Mom rushed in with the warm milk bottle in hand. “Here it is, my hungry baby!”
The moment Rara saw the bottle, she gasped happily, eyes wide, tears forgotten. She latched on eagerly, tiny hands holding it with all her strength.
As the milk flowed into her tummy, Rara closed her eyes, calming instantly. Her tail gently curled, and a peaceful hum escaped her lips.
All was right again.
And as she drank, Mom smiled and whispered, “You’re too adorable, my little Rara.”
