Baby monkey Selena cried sharply, the sound cutting through the room like a tiny siren. Her bottle was empty, but her hunger was not. She clutched it with both hands, shaking it angrily, eyes wide and wet with tears. To her, the milk had ended too soon, and the world felt unfair.
Her cries rose higher, sharp and desperate. Selena kicked her legs and arched her back, tiny chest moving fast with each breath. She searched every face, looking for Mommy, believing more milk should come the moment she asked. Waiting felt impossible. Hunger made her heart race and her patience disappear.
Mommy hurried close, speaking softly, trying to calm her. Selena cried louder in reply. She didn’t want words. She wanted milk. Her little mouth opened and closed, making sucking motions, her hands reaching out again and again. The bottle was her comfort, her warmth, her safety.
Mom checked the bottle carefully, warming more milk while keeping Selena close. Even in her arms, Selena kept crying, afraid the milk might not return. Tears rolled down her cheeks, soaking her soft fur. Her cries were sharp, but underneath them lived fear, not anger.
Finally, the bottle touched her lips. Selena froze for half a second, then latched on desperately. The sharp cries stopped instantly, replaced by eager swallowing. Her body softened as the milk flowed, warmth spreading through her belly. Her grip relaxed, her breathing slowed.
Mom held her gently, rocking side to side. Selena drank and drank, eyes slowly closing. Hunger faded. Anger melted away. Only comfort remained. When the bottle emptied this time, Selena didn’t scream. She sighed softly, full and calm.
That moment reminded everyone: Selena wasn’t demanding. She was small. She needed reassurance as much as milk. In Mommy’s arms, with a full tummy and gentle love, Selena felt safe again, trusting that her needs would always be answered.
