Baby monkey Donal clung tightly to Mom’s shirt the moment he saw the motorcycle. The engine wasn’t even running yet, but the strange smell and shiny metal were enough to scare him. His eyes widened, and his tiny body stiffened with fear. When Mom tried to place him in the safe carrier, Donal let out a sharp cry filled with panic.
He shook his head hard, gripping Mom’s fingers as if letting go meant danger. His cries echoed loudly, trembling with worry and confusion. Donal didn’t understand where they were going. All he knew was that the motorcycle felt wrong. It was noisy, unfamiliar, and moved too fast for his small heart to trust.
Mom knelt beside him, speaking softly, stroking his back to calm him. But Donal cried louder, curling his body inward and refusing to sit properly. His tail wrapped tightly around Mom’s arm, his only anchor. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he begged in his own way—please don’t make me ride.
The road nearby hummed with distant sounds, making Donal flinch again. His breathing came fast and uneven. He buried his face against Mom’s chest, shaking, hoping she would change her mind. Mom paused, watching him carefully, understanding his fear. She didn’t rush him. She stayed still, letting him feel safe first.
Finally, Mom held Donal close, whispering comfort into his ear. The cries slowly softened into weak sobs. He relaxed just a little, trusting her warmth more than his fear. The motorcycle could wait. What mattered most was this moment of reassurance. Donal learned that day that even when he was afraid, Mom would always listen—and never force him when his heart wasn’t ready.
