Early in the morning, before the sun had even risen over the trees, the little baby monkey woke up crying softly. His name was Bon, and he was only a few weeks old. His tiny hands trembled as he reached toward his caretaker, making soft, pitiful sounds — “eee eee,” like a hungry baby calling for his mother.
Bon’s mother was not there. She had been gone since he was rescued by a kind farmer named Cutis, who found him alone in the forest. Cutis had been taking care of Bon for several days now — feeding him milk, wrapping him in soft cloth, and holding him close when he cried. But this morning was different. Bon didn’t want the bottle. He didn’t want the warm blanket. He wanted his mother’s milk — real, comforting breastfeeding milk.
Cutis looked at the baby monkey with compassion. “Oh, Bon,” he said gently, “you miss your mama, don’t you?” The baby’s eyes were wide and watery. He held onto Cutis’s arm, pressing his little face against the man’s chest as if searching for warmth, comfort, and milk.
Cutis sighed. He could feel Bon’s tiny heartbeat against his arm. It was a mix of sadness and love. “You don’t understand, little one,” he whispered, “I’ll take care of you now.”
He tried giving Bon the milk bottle again. But Bon pushed it away with his small hands, squeaking unhappily. He nuzzled closer, trying to find a place to nurse. His instincts were strong — he didn’t understand that humans couldn’t breastfeed monkeys. To him, Cutis was “Mama” now.
Cutis didn’t laugh or push him away. Instead, he let Bon cling to him. He knew this was part of healing — part of the connection that baby animals need to survive. The little monkey wanted comfort, not just food.
Bon continued to cling to Cutis’s shirt, pressing his face into the fabric and sucking softly, though no milk came. His eyes slowly closed, and his cries turned into little sighs. The comfort of heartbeat and warmth was enough for him to calm down for a moment.
Cutis sat down in a chair on the porch, holding Bon gently in his arms. The morning breeze brushed against them. Birds were chirping in the nearby mango tree, and the sun began to peek through the leaves. It was a peaceful sight — man and monkey, two different beings, bound by love.
After a while, Cutis warmed up some milk in a small bottle, just the right temperature. He tested it on his wrist — not too hot, not too cold. He whispered softly, “Bon, come on, my little boy, drink this, okay?”
Bon stirred in his arms, opening his sleepy eyes. Cutis slowly moved the bottle close to his lips. At first, Bon turned away, still wanting that comforting feeling of breastfeeding. But when he smelled the sweet milk, he hesitated, looked at Cutis’s eyes, and then, finally, started to drink.
A tiny slurping sound filled the air. “There you go,” Cutis said, smiling. “Good boy.”
As Bon drank, his little tail wrapped around Cutis’s fingers. It was his way of saying “thank you.” The warm milk filled his tummy, and slowly his body relaxed. He looked peaceful, his eyelids drooping again as he finished drinking.
When the bottle was empty, Cutis gently rubbed Bon’s back — just like a mother would do after breastfeeding. Bon burped softly, making Cutis laugh. “That’s my little man,” he said proudly.
But even after feeding, Bon didn’t want to be put down. He crawled up to Cutis’s shoulder and nestled under his chin. His fur was soft and warm. His little hands kept patting Cutis’s neck, as if to make sure he was still there.
Throughout the day, Bon followed Cutis everywhere. If Cutis went to the garden to pick vegetables, Bon clung to his shirt. If Cutis went to feed the chickens, Bon sat on his shoulder. Every time he got tired or scared, he would press himself against Cutis’s chest again, looking for the feeling of safety that breastfeeding used to give him.
Cutis understood that this kind of attachment was natural. Baby monkeys need physical closeness for emotional security. So, even though it wasn’t easy, he gave Bon what he needed — love, time, and patience.
At lunchtime, Bon watched Cutis eat rice and fruit. His little eyes sparkled when he saw a piece of banana. Cutis laughed and shared a tiny piece with him. Bon eagerly took it, chewing happily. But soon after, he started to yawn. His belly was full, his heart was calm, and all he wanted now was sleep.
Cutis prepared a small cloth hammock for Bon beside his bed. He laid the baby monkey down carefully, but Bon immediately reached out his hands, wanting to be held again. Cutis smiled, lifted him up, and gently rocked him back and forth.
“Alright, alright,” Cutis murmured. “You win. You can sleep with me today.”
Bon snuggled into his caretaker’s chest, sighing softly. The rhythmic sound of Cutis’s heartbeat reminded him of his mother. Slowly, his tiny body relaxed, and he drifted off to sleep.
That night, Cutis looked down at Bon, sleeping peacefully in his arms. “You’re safe now,” he whispered. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
He thought about how love can cross all boundaries — species, language, or form. A human and a monkey might seem worlds apart, but in the language of care and tenderness, they understood each other perfectly.
Days passed, and Bon grew stronger. He started to climb on furniture, swing his tail playfully, and explore every corner of the house. Yet, every time he got frightened — a loud noise, a barking dog, or thunder — he still ran back to Cutis’s arms, seeking that same comfort.
Sometimes, Bon would hold the milk bottle himself now, trying to drink without help. But occasionally, he still pressed his face against Cutis’s chest, making soft baby sounds, as if remembering the warmth of nursing. Cutis would gently stroke his fur and say, “You’ve grown up, little Bon, but I know you still miss your mama.”
One evening, while they sat outside watching the sunset, Bon climbed onto Cutis’s lap and hugged him tightly. It wasn’t about milk anymore. It was about love, trust, and belonging.
Bon had found something even stronger than the milk he once longed for — he had found family.
And as the stars began to appear in the sky, Cutis whispered, “You wanted your mother’s milk, but you’ve got my heart instead.”
The baby monkey purred softly in response, wrapping his tail around Cutis’s arm. In that quiet moment, they both knew — love had filled the emptiness that milk alone could never satisfy. 💗🐒🍼
