It was a bright Saturday morning in the countryside when Bibi, the playful little monkey who lived with Uncle Phong, refused her favorite breakfast—ripe bananas and mango slices. Uncle Phong noticed right away. Bibi never missed a meal, especially not one filled with fruit. She usually swung down from the tree as soon as she heard the clatter of dishes.
“Bibi?” Uncle Phong called softly, holding the banana out.
But Bibi didn’t respond.
Instead, she lay curled up in the corner of the wooden deck, her eyes half-closed, breathing slowly. Uncle Phong’s heart sank. He rushed over and placed a gentle hand on her back. She felt hot—much hotter than normal.
“Oh no,” Uncle Phong murmured, “you have a fever.”
He lifted her into his arms, wrapping her in a soft cloth. Bibi whimpered a little, too tired to resist. Her usual energy was gone. Uncle Phong could feel her heartbeat racing, her little hands limp against his chest.
Uncle Phong had lived in the village his whole life. He had taken care of many animals—chickens, dogs, goats—but Bibi was special. She had been just a baby when he found her alone in the forest, probably abandoned. Since then, she had become part of his life, almost like a daughter.
“Don’t worry, my little one,” he whispered as he walked quickly toward the house. “We’ll take care of you.”
Inside, he laid Bibi on a soft mat and got a cool cloth to wipe her forehead. He placed a small thermometer near her underarm and waited.
“39.8 degrees Celsius,” he read aloud. “That’s too high!”
He immediately called his friend, Doctor Lan, who lived in the next village. She was an animal doctor and had known Bibi since she was a baby.
“Lan,” Uncle Phong said with urgency, “Bibi has a high fever. She’s not moving much, and she’s breathing fast. What should I do?”
“I’ll come over right away,” Doctor Lan said.
While waiting, Uncle Phong did everything he could. He kept the room cool and dark. He tried giving Bibi sips of water, which she barely managed to drink. He gently wiped her paws and cheeks with a damp cloth, whispering softly the whole time.
“Stay with me, Bibi. Just rest, okay? I’m right here.”
Within half an hour, Doctor Lan arrived on her motorbike, carrying a small medical bag.
“Let’s take a look,” she said calmly but seriously. She checked Bibi’s heartbeat, her eyes, and her breathing.
“She’s dehydrated,” Doctor Lan explained. “And her fever is dangerously high. We need to give her fluids.”
She quickly prepared a small injection and inserted it into Bibi’s thigh. Uncle Phong sat beside her, holding her tiny hand.
“She’s going to be okay, right?” he asked, his voice tight with emotion.
“She should be,” Doctor Lan nodded, “but we have to keep monitoring her. This could be from an infection or something she ate. Has she been outside alone recently?”
Uncle Phong thought hard. “Yesterday, she went to the back garden while I was fixing the roof. I didn’t notice her eating anything strange, but she was quiet afterward.”
Doctor Lan nodded. “That might be it. Let’s just keep her cool and comfortable for now.”
The night was long. Uncle Phong didn’t sleep. He sat beside Bibi the whole time, wiping her down, changing her damp cloths, and whispering stories about the time she stole a whole basket of bananas and hid them in his boots. Normally, she would’ve giggled her monkey giggle at that story. But tonight, she didn’t even blink.
In the middle of the night, Bibi stirred. Her little eyes fluttered open, just for a second. Uncle Phong leaned in.
“Bibi?” he said hopefully.
She let out a tiny sound, a cross between a cough and a chirp, and tried to sit up but couldn’t.
“Shh, don’t move. Just rest,” he soothed, relieved to see her awake.
By morning, her fever had come down slightly. Doctor Lan returned to check on her and smiled.
“She’s improving. It’ll take a few days, but she’s a fighter.”
Uncle Phong finally allowed himself to smile.
“I was so scared,” he admitted. “I’ve never seen her like this.”
“I know,” Doctor Lan said gently. “But you did the right thing, and you called for help in time.”
Over the next few days, Uncle Phong barely left her side. He prepared soft foods and encouraged her to drink water. Slowly, Bibi began to recover. First, she sat up on her own. Then, she ate half a banana. A day later, she climbed onto Uncle Phong’s shoulder and nuzzled into his neck.
“Ohhh, now you’re back,” Uncle Phong chuckled, tears forming in his eyes. “You scared me so much, little monkey.”
Bibi chirped weakly and gave his ear a tiny lick, a sign of affection only he understood.
Word of Bibi’s illness had spread through the village. Neighbors came by to bring her fruit, flowers, and even little toys. The children who used to play with her sent handmade cards with drawings of Bibi smiling again.
One little boy, Minh, handed Uncle Phong a folded piece of paper. “When Bibi gets better, can she come back to the treehouse we built?”
“Of course,” Uncle Phong said with a smile. “She’ll be there soon.”
By the end of the week, Bibi was up and moving again, although still a bit slow. Her energy returned little by little. She started climbing trees, playing with her favorite stuffed toy, and even managed to steal a banana when Uncle Phong wasn’t looking.
“She’s back,” Doctor Lan laughed when she visited again. “And just as naughty.”
Uncle Phong looked at Bibi, who was now swinging gently from a tree branch, her fur shiny and eyes bright.
“Yes,” he said softly, “and I’m so thankful.”
That night, as the sun dipped below the hills and the sky turned shades of purple and gold, Uncle Phong sat on the porch with Bibi curled up beside him.
“You gave me quite a scare,” he whispered, stroking her fur. “But you’re strong. You always have been.”
Bibi looked up at him and made a small sound—half a chirp, half a squeak. Then she rested her head against his shoulder, safe, warm, and loved.
