The morning air in the monkey park felt different that day. It was quieter, softer, as if even the trees knew something special was about to happen. Sunlight filtered through the leaves in gentle patterns, and the troop gathered slowly near the familiar rocks and branches. At the center of attention was the newborn monkey, tiny and curled against its mother’s belly, unaware that today would be a day of change.
And then there was CUTIS.
CUTIS had been acting strange since dawn. Instead of his usual noisy entrance—jumping, spinning, or pretending to fall—he sat quietly, watching the newborn from a distance. His eyes followed every small movement, every tiny stretch of the baby’s fingers. Something was on his mind.
The mother monkey was preparing to leave the area. In the park, newborn monkeys are sometimes moved with their mothers to a quieter, safer space away from the busy troop. It helps protect the baby during its earliest days. The mother knew this path well, but CUTIS did not like the idea at all.
When the mother stood up and adjusted the newborn on her belly, CUTIS suddenly sprang into action.
He rushed forward and blocked her path.
The troop froze.
CUTIS spread his arms wide, looked at the baby, then at the mother, then dramatically at the sky. He sighed deeply, like someone facing the saddest goodbye of their life. Then he did something that made everyone burst into chatter—he waved slowly at the newborn with both hands, eyes wide and watery, lips trembling in exaggerated sadness.
Goodbye… goodbye… his body language cried. 😂
The newborn blinked once, unimpressed.
CUTIS wasn’t done.
He picked up a leaf, folded it awkwardly, and placed it gently near the baby, as if offering a farewell gift. The leaf immediately fell to the ground. CUTIS stared at it, shocked, then picked it up again and tried once more. When it fell again, CUTIS sighed loudly and nodded, as if accepting that gifts were not his strength.
The mother tried to move around him. CUTIS shuffled sideways, still blocking her, shaking his head slowly. He pointed at the baby, then at his own chest, then made a hugging motion, followed by an exaggerated sob.
Please don’t go!
A few monkeys began grooming each other nervously, clearly entertained. CUTIS lay down on the path dramatically, stretched out flat, arms and legs wide.
If you leave, you’ll have to step over me.
The mother looked down at him with calm patience. She adjusted the baby again and gently stepped around CUTIS without breaking stride.
CUTIS jumped up instantly, pretending to be shocked by the betrayal. He gasped, clutched his chest, staggered backward, and then bowed deeply toward the newborn like a performer at the end of a show.
Goodbye, my tiny friend! 😂
The newborn made a tiny sound and wriggled slightly. CUTIS froze, eyes wide. He leaned in slowly, carefully, then whispered—well, as much as a monkey can whisper—with soft clicking sounds. He waved again, slower this time, like a dramatic movie scene.
As the mother began walking away along the familiar path, CUTIS followed a few steps behind, keeping a respectful distance. With every step, he acted as if the pain of separation was unbearable. He stopped, turned around, and looked back at the troop, pointing at the mother and baby like, “Are you seeing this? They’re really leaving!”
He walked again. Stopped again. This time, he picked up a small stick and held it like a walking cane, suddenly pretending to be old and weak. He limped dramatically, sighed loudly, and leaned on the stick, shaking his head at how life had treated him so unfairly.
The mother did not turn back.
CUTIS quickened his pace and ran ahead, positioning himself in front of the mother once more. He crouched down to the baby’s level and began making funny faces—puffing his cheeks, crossing his eyes, sticking out his tongue briefly. The newborn stared quietly.
CUTIS gasped.
“No laugh? Not even a smile?” his expression asked.
He tried one last trick. He gently tapped his own head, then slowly toppled sideways onto the grass, pretending to faint. He lay still for a moment, one eye barely open to check if anyone was watching.
The newborn remained unimpressed.
CUTIS sighed and sat up.
“Well,” his body language said, “I tried.”
The mother paused for a moment. She looked at CUTIS—not angry, not amused, just calm. CUTIS immediately straightened up, hands neatly placed in front of him. He bowed respectfully, then stepped aside.
As the mother continued down the path, CUTIS stood still. For the first time that day, he didn’t perform. He simply watched.
Then, just before the mother disappeared into the trees, CUTIS suddenly waved both arms wildly and ran in a small circle, throwing his head back and letting out a joyful, dramatic call—not sad this time, but playful, full of life.
Goodbye! Grow strong! Come back soon! 😂
The troop echoed his call, filling the forest with sound.
When the mother and newborn were finally out of sight, CUTIS stayed there a moment longer. He sniffed the air, then shrugged lightly, as if accepting that life moves forward whether he likes it or not.
Within seconds, the old CUTIS returned.
He jumped onto a rock, slipped on purpose, and pretended to almost fall. He waved for attention, then laughed silently to himself. The troop responded with chatter and movement, life returning to normal.
As evening settled, CUTIS sat near his favorite spot, grooming himself. The absence of the newborn felt strange, but the memory of the funny goodbye lingered.
CUTIS had turned a moment of separation into laughter, showing once again that even in change, there can be joy.
And somewhere beyond the trees, the newborn slept peacefully—unaware that it had just been the star of CUTIS’s most dramatic farewell ever. 😂
