The tiny newborn monkey looked unusually delicate, his head a little too big for his fragile body and his round eyes shining with both fear and innocence. He had only just entered this world, yet already he knew the feeling of hunger, loneliness, and discomfort.
On this day, his cries began softly — little squeaks that begged for attention. But when no comfort came quickly enough, those cries grew louder. His round eyes welled with tears, his tiny arms flailing as he squirmed in frustration. The poor baby was having a tantrum.
He rolled from side to side, his mouth open wide in desperate cries, his tail twitching. Every sound carried both anger and sadness, as if he was pleading, “Please don’t leave me. Hold me, feed me, love me.”
Rescuers rushed over, their hearts breaking at the sight. One gently picked him up, cradling his big head carefully in their hands. “Shh… it’s okay, little one,” they whispered. The baby’s cries were still sharp, his tantrum not yet soothed, but the warmth of touch began to calm his trembling.
A warm bottle of milk was placed to his lips. At first, he resisted, still too upset. But then, slowly, his mouth latched on, and the tantrum softened into greedy suckles. His round eyes blinked, the tears glistening but fading, replaced by relief.
When his belly was finally full, he curled into the blanket, eyes heavy with sleep. The tantrum was over, replaced by quiet breathing and the safety of love.
Though tiny and fragile, this newborn with a big head and round eyes had a powerful voice. And that voice had brought him the comfort he needed most — gentle care and a promise that he was no longer alone.
