The morning sun had barely risen over the lush green trees when something very strange happened. I woke up to the warm arms of my caretaker, CUTIS, just like every other day. His calm heartbeat and gentle strokes were all I knew. Ever since I was rescued as a tiny, scared baby, CUTIS had been my whole world. He fed me, held me, and protected me like I was his own child.
But today felt different. CUTIS wasn’t smiling the way he usually did. He looked serious—worried even—as he packed my little banana snacks into a bag. I clung to him tightly, refusing to be put down. My heart beat faster. I didn’t know why, but something inside me said, “Something bad is coming.”
Then, I saw a stranger.
He walked slowly toward us—a tall man in a dark jacket, holding a small cage. The moment I saw that cage, my body tensed up. My fur stood on end. My tiny hands gripped CUTIS tighter.
“CUTIS?” I whimpered, trying to get his attention. “Who is that man?”
But CUTIS didn’t answer me. He just patted my back and whispered something soft. His voice trembled. He wasn’t his usual calm self.
Then it happened.
The stranger reached out to take me.
I screamed. Loud. Shrill. Desperate.
I kicked, I scratched, I held onto CUTIS with every ounce of my strength. I looked up into his face, hoping he’d push the stranger away. I expected him to shout “No! Leave the baby alone!”
But he didn’t.
CUTIS gently pried my fingers off his shirt. I screamed even louder. My cries echoed through the trees.
“Why? WHY?!” I sobbed.
Didn’t he love me anymore? Was I being punished? Had I done something wrong?
The stranger put me into the small cage. I rattled the bars, tears streaming down my furry cheeks. I could still see CUTIS. He stood there silently, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t understand—something like sadness mixed with guilt.
“CUTIS! Help me!” I cried. “Why are you letting them take me?”
I didn’t understand it. I felt betrayed. I didn’t know where I was going, or who this man was, or what would happen to me.
The journey was long. The cage was cold and uncomfortable. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I just sat there, confused and terrified.
Hours passed. Then, we finally stopped.
The cage door opened, and the stranger lifted me out, but gently. To my surprise, we were in a wide, open place. Trees, swings, other monkeys—some younger, some older. There were people too, wearing kind faces and soft voices.
It wasn’t a scary place. But it wasn’t home.
Days passed.
I refused to eat. I sat in the corner of my new enclosure, staring at the gate, waiting. Every little noise made me jump. Every man who walked by made me flinch.
I missed CUTIS. I missed the way he used to hum while feeding me, the way he’d rock me to sleep, the way he looked at me like I was his everything.
Why would he just let me go?
One day, a kind lady came and sat near me. She didn’t force me to eat. She just sat with me. Quiet. Patient. After a while, she showed me a little photo.
It was of me… and CUTIS.
She spoke gently, and though I didn’t understand all her words, I could tell from her tone that CUTIS hadn’t abandoned me. She said he cried after I left. That he stayed up late at night watching videos of me, whispering my name. That he had made a difficult decision—for my sake.
And then it all became clear.
CUTIS didn’t give me away because he stopped loving me. He let me go because he loved me too much.
You see, I’m a monkey. A wild animal. And no matter how much CUTIS loved me, I wasn’t meant to live in a human’s house forever. I needed trees to climb, monkey friends to play with, space to grow, and learn how to be what I was born to be.
Keeping me would have made him happy.
But letting me go would give me the life I truly needed.
That’s the hardest kind of love—the kind that lets go.
Weeks turned into months. I slowly started opening up. I made new monkey friends. I learned how to swing on branches, groom others, and even steal a mango or two from the feeding basket. The kind lady would still visit, always smiling, always reminding me that CUTIS still cared.
Then one day… he came.
I smelled him before I saw him. That familiar scent—his scent—hit me like a bolt of lightning. I raced to the gate, heart pounding.
And there he was.
CUTIS.
He looked different—maybe a bit older, a little more tired—but his eyes… they were the same. Full of love. Tears filled them as he crouched down.
I leaped into his arms, holding onto him just like before. He cried. I chirped. We stayed like that for a long time.
No cages. No fear. Just love.
He didn’t take me home, and I didn’t ask to go. Because now I understood.
This was my home. This sanctuary, with my monkey family, the trees, the sky. But that didn’t mean CUTIS was gone from my life.
He visits often. He brings me my favorite fruits. He still sings to me. He watches me play with pride in his eyes.
He didn’t stop loving me. He just chose to love me right.
So to every baby monkey crying out in fear, and to every human who has to make the painful choice to let go—know this:
Love is not about possession. It’s about protection.
And sometimes, the bravest thing you can do for someone you love… is let them go.
