In the heart of a sun-drenched jungle, where the tall trees whispered secrets to the sky and the vines tangled like wild laughter, Farmer Cutis was tending to his morning chores. His humble wooden cottage stood at the edge of the forest, a haven not just for him, but for the many animals he had rescued over the years—goats, chickens, parrots, and most recently, a cheeky baby monkey named Mino.
Mino had been with Cutis for three months. Orphaned after a storm separated him from his troop, the baby monkey had arrived terrified and weak. But under Cutis’s gentle care—ripe bananas, warm blankets, and daily cuddles—Mino had flourished. The two had formed an unbreakable bond. Wherever Cutis went, Mino was never far behind, clinging to his shoulder or peeking out from his straw hat.
But that morning, something was wrong.
“Mino?” Cutis called out, stepping into the small play area he had built from tree branches and rope swings. It was empty. The blanket was untouched, the breakfast banana still whole. A cold ripple of worry passed through him.
“Mino! Where are you, boy?” he called louder, now searching the surrounding area with a tightening chest.
He checked under the porch, around the trees, even in the storage shed. Nothing.
Then he spotted it—tiny footprints in the damp soil, heading toward the jungle path. Fresh. And next to them… paw prints. Larger, heavier. Wild cat.
Fear slammed into Cutis like a hammer. “Oh no,” he whispered, grabbing his backpack, a flashlight, and his emergency whistle. Without another thought, he bolted into the forest, following the tracks.
The jungle was no easy terrain. Vines snagged at his legs, thorns scraped his arms, and the humid air made every breath feel heavy. But he didn’t stop. Not for a second.
“Mino!” he shouted again, voice cracking with urgency. A distant rustle made him freeze. Was it the cat? Or—was it Mino?
He pressed on, listening, heart racing in his ears. He knew the forest well, but it could still be dangerous. Especially for a tiny monkey.
Soon, he reached the base of a cliff—one of Mino’s favorite spots to climb. Cutis scanned the steep wall. Something moved near the top. Squinting, he saw it—Mino! But the baby was trembling, clutching a branch on a narrow ledge, eyes wide with terror.
“Hang on, Mino! I’m coming!” Cutis called.
Then he saw the shadow.
A wild jungle cat—a slender, muscular predator—was creeping along the ridge above Mino. Its yellow eyes locked on the baby. It was waiting. Watching.
“No!” Cutis yelled, waving his arms. But he knew it wouldn’t scare the animal.
He had to get to Mino fast.
Cutis began climbing, hands finding rough holds in the rock, boots digging into cracks. Sweat poured down his back. The ledge was narrow, crumbling in places, and a single misstep could send him falling. But he didn’t look down. His only focus was Mino.
Halfway up, he heard a hiss. The cat had seen him—and it wasn’t backing away.
“Mino, stay still, buddy. Don’t move!” he called, trying to stay calm.
He reached into his pack and pulled out a small flare—his only one. With a flick, the bright red light flared to life. He pointed it toward the ridge.
The cat flinched, growled lowly, but didn’t flee. Cutis waved it more, shouting and throwing a rock. At last, the animal hissed again—and slipped back into the brush above.
Breathing hard, Cutis finally reached Mino. The baby monkey leaped into his arms, burying his face in Cutis’s shirt and squealing in relief.
“I’ve got you,” Cutis murmured, clutching him tight. “You’re safe now.”
But getting down was just as tricky. With one arm cradling Mino and the other gripping rock, Cutis moved slowly and steadily, feeling his way back down the cliff.
When they finally reached the ground, Cutis collapsed, cradling the little monkey in his lap.
Mino squeaked softly and nuzzled Cutis’s face. It was as if he was saying, “Thank you.”
“You gave me the biggest scare of my life,” Cutis said with a smile, rubbing Mino’s head. “No more solo jungle adventures, got it?”
As the sun began to set, casting golden light through the jungle canopy, Cutis and Mino made their way home. The forest, once buzzing with danger, now seemed calm again.
Back at the cottage, Cutis cleaned a small scrape on Mino’s leg, then wrapped him in his favorite banana-print blanket. He made them both a meal—warm porridge for himself, and banana slices with mango bits for Mino.
That night, Cutis sat in his old rocking chair with Mino nestled in his arms, fast asleep. The stars twinkled above, and the jungle sang its lullaby. The fear and chaos of the day melted into gratitude. They had made it.
But the adventure had left a mark.
The next morning, Cutis began building a sturdier fence around the cottage’s perimeter. He also started crafting a custom harness for Mino—one that would let the monkey explore safely without wandering too far. He knew he couldn’t keep Mino locked away, but he also couldn’t bear to lose him.
And Mino? He never strayed again. From that day on, he seemed to understand the value of safety—and the depth of Cutis’s love.
The jungle would always hold its dangers, but Farmer Cutis had proven something important: when it came to protecting those you love, no distance is too far, no climb too high, and no race too difficult.
Especially when it’s a race against time.
