The morning sun had just risen over the lush green canopy that surrounded CUTIS’s quiet little farm. Birds chirped their cheerful melodies, the wind swayed gently through the tall grass, and everything seemed peaceful—until CUTIS noticed something was wrong.
He had gone out to check on the baby monkey he had been caring for—a tiny, wide-eyed creature he’d rescued weeks earlier from the side of the road. The monkey, whom he lovingly named MiuMiu, had quickly become the light of his days. CUTIS had fed her warm milk, kept her close to his chest at night, and even built a small wooden crib beside his bed. MiuMiu had become more than just a rescued animal; she was family.
But this morning, something felt terribly off.
CUTIS approached the shaded corner of the porch where MiuMiu usually curled up in a ball of fur and mischief. But instead of seeing her bouncing up to greet him with happy squeaks and playful jumps, he saw her lying still. Too still.
His heart dropped.
“MiuMiu?” he called softly, stepping closer.
No response.
He knelt down, his hands trembling, and gently touched her back. She was warm—but unmoving. Her eyes were closed tightly, and her tiny fingers clutched the corner of her blanket. CUTIS’s voice cracked as he tried again, “MiuMiu, wake up, baby…”
Still nothing.
Tears welled in his eyes as panic surged through his chest. He picked her up, holding her gently but urgently. Her body was limp, her breathing shallow. CUTIS could hardly breathe himself. “What happened to you?” he whispered, his voice trembling with fear.
He wrapped her in a soft towel and rushed inside. With shaking hands, he tried to offer her warm milk, thinking maybe she was just hungry. But she wouldn’t even open her eyes. CUTIS felt helpless, like a part of his heart was slipping away before he could understand what was going on.
He called the local wildlife veterinarian, explaining the situation through tears. “Please,” he pleaded, “you have to help her. She’s just a baby!”
Within half an hour, the vet arrived—a kind woman named Dr. Lina, who had worked with rescued animals for years. She gently took MiuMiu from CUTIS’s arms and began checking her vitals. CUTIS watched every move, his fists clenched tightly, his jaw quivering with emotion.
After a few quiet moments, Dr. Lina looked up. Her expression was serious.
“She’s very weak,” she said gently. “But it’s not an infection or injury. It looks like she’s gone into a state of shock.”
“Shock?” CUTIS echoed, confused. “Why would she be in shock? She was fine yesterday! She ate, she played… she even curled up in my lap!”
Dr. Lina gave a sympathetic sigh. “Did anything unusual happen yesterday? Any loud noises? Changes in her environment? Any separation?”
CUTIS suddenly remembered something. Yesterday afternoon, he had gone to town to get supplies. It was the first time he had left MiuMiu alone for more than an hour. He’d left her in a safe, warm place with food and water. But it had stormed while he was gone—thunder, lightning, and heavy rain. MiuMiu had always been afraid of loud noises.
“She was alone during the storm,” he said, his voice breaking. “I thought she’d be okay for just a little while…”
Dr. Lina nodded slowly. “She must’ve been terrified. Baby monkeys are extremely sensitive, especially to fear and abandonment. The shock might have overwhelmed her system.”
CUTIS’s tears finally broke free. He sat on the edge of the couch, holding his face in his hands, sobbing quietly. “I should’ve been here. I didn’t know… I just didn’t know.”
Dr. Lina placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t mean any harm. You’ve done more for this baby than most would. But now, we have to help her recover—together.”
They set up a small heated box with soft blankets and gentle lighting. Dr. Lina administered fluids and a mild sedative to calm MiuMiu’s nervous system. For the next several hours, CUTIS stayed by her side, talking to her softly, telling her stories of the day they met and all the times they’d shared.
“MiuMiu,” he whispered through tears, “you can’t give up on me. I need you. Please fight, baby. Please come back.”
As the evening approached, MiuMiu stirred slightly. Her tiny hand twitched. CUTIS gasped, wiping his eyes to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. She moved again—just a little—but this time her eyes fluttered open.
“Dr. Lina!” he cried out. “She’s waking up!”
Dr. Lina rushed over, checked her vitals, and smiled gently. “She’s responding. That’s a very good sign.”
CUTIS cradled MiuMiu close, tears now flowing from relief. “You’re so strong, my sweet girl. I’ll never leave you alone again, I promise.”
The next few days were filled with gentle care and constant love. CUTIS never left her side, even sleeping beside her crib on the floor. Slowly, MiuMiu began regaining her strength. She started eating again, first tiny spoonfuls of mashed banana, then warm milk. Soon, she was squeaking and crawling—still weak, but alive.
The heartbreaking truth CUTIS had discovered—that MiuMiu had been so scared and alone that she nearly gave up on life—had changed him forever. He realized that love wasn’t just about feeding and sheltering. It was about presence. Reassurance. Being there when it matters most.
He built a new little backpack carrier for MiuMiu, so she could always be close, even when he had to leave the house. And MiuMiu? She clung to him tighter than ever, curling up on his shoulder and chirping softly when she felt safe.
CUTIS often looked at her and felt the tears come again—not from sadness, but from overwhelming love and gratitude.
“She’s my heart,” he’d say to anyone who asked. “She gave me a reason to slow down and care deeply. She taught me what it means to be truly needed.”
And from that moment forward, CUTIS and MiuMiu faced every sunrise together—stronger, wiser, and more bonded than ever.
