The newborn baby monkey lay on the flat wooden table, tiny body trembling, eyes wide with fear. He had never been away from the warmth of his mother before. Everything around him felt strange—the smell of the house, the hardness of the surface beneath him, and the unfamiliar silence. Without soft fur to cling to, his heart raced faster, and the little monkey began to cry nervously, calling out in tiny, broken sounds.
He didn’t know why he had been placed there. The rescuer had only gone to prepare his milk, thinking it would take just a moment. But to the newborn, even a few seconds felt like forever. His little fingers curled desperately against the table as he tried to stabilize himself. He wasn’t strong enough to stand, but he kept trying, lifting his head as though looking for someone to come back.
The room seemed too big, too quiet, too empty. He shook his arms and legs, his tiny chest rising and falling quickly with each frightened breath. His cry grew sharper—high-pitched, nervous, and full of confusion. He didn’t understand he was safe. All he knew was that he was alone, and alone meant danger.
The rescuer heard the cries from across the room and rushed back. When they reached the table, the tiny baby monkey was still trembling, his eyes full of fear and hope at the same time. As soon as warm hands lifted him, he clung with all the strength he had, pressing his face against the rescuer’s shirt like he was afraid to let go.
The crying slowly faded into soft whimpers. The rescuer gently held him against their chest, whispering reassurance and stroking his small back.
The newborn didn’t understand the words—but he understood the warmth. And in that moment, the scary world didn’t feel so big anymore.
