Baby Lika was known for her gentle eyes, soft fur, and quiet personality—but she was also famous for one very strong opinion: she absolutely did not like going outdoors. While the other baby monkeys rushed toward the sunlight every morning, Lika stayed glued to her cozy corner inside, gripping her blanket like her life depended on it.
The caregiver opened the door, letting in a warm breeze. “Come on, Lika… just a little outside time,” they encouraged softly. But the tiny monkey shook her head immediately. She pressed her body lower into the blanket, her tail curling protectively around her leg. Her little chest rose with a nervous breath.
She peeked toward the doorway. The bright sky, the tall trees, the wide open ground—it was all too big, too loud, too unpredictable. She preferred the comfort of indoor shadows, the quiet hum of familiar walls, and the steady safety of her soft sleeping spot.
The caregiver tried gently lifting her. Lika clung tighter. Not angry—just scared. She let out a tiny whimper, her eyes wide and pleading. She wasn’t trying to be difficult. She simply didn’t understand why she had to leave her safe place.
When she was finally brought outside, Lika curled immediately against the caregiver’s chest, hiding her face in their shirt. The fresh breeze touched her fur, making her tremble. The chirping birds startled her. Even the dancing leaves seemed too much.
The caregiver sat down with her, whispering calm words, not forcing her to explore. Slowly—very slowly—Lika peeked out. She saw butterflies, little flowers, and soft grass swaying gently. She loosened her grip just a little.
After a few minutes, her breathing slowed. Her eyes softened. She let one tiny hand reach toward the grass, touching it for just a second before retreating back to safety.
Lika wasn’t ready to love the outdoors yet.
But she was learning—and she would take it one tiny, brave step at a time.
