In a peaceful little village on the edge of the forest, a playful brown puppy named Nino lived with his human family. Nino had floppy ears, a wagging tail that never seemed to stop, and a heart full of curiosity. He loved chasing butterflies, digging little holes in the garden, and rolling around in the grass. Everyone in the village adored him. But there was one thing about Nino that puzzled people—he didn’t like the monkey.
The monkey’s name was Tiki. She was a young, cheeky monkey who had wandered into the village from the nearby forest. The villagers took her in, gave her fruits, and built her a small wooden platform to rest on. Tiki was smart, quick, and full of mischief. Children laughed at her silly tricks, and the adults enjoyed watching her climb trees and swing from ropes they had tied for her.
But Nino didn’t find Tiki funny. In fact, from the very first day they met, the puppy growled softly and barked when she came near. He would hide behind the water jar or sit far away with his ears down and his eyes wary. No matter how much Tiki tried to play or come closer, Nino didn’t trust her.
Why didn’t the puppy like the monkey?
The answer wasn’t simple. It had to do with feelings, instincts, and a little bit of misunderstanding.
At first, it was jealousy.
Nino had always been the center of attention. People gave him belly rubs, food scraps, and lots of love. But ever since Tiki came, some of that attention shifted. The children now spent time with the monkey. They laughed at her tricks and clapped when she flipped or danced. Nino didn’t understand why everyone was cheering for her and not for him. He felt forgotten. And in his little heart, that hurt.
Then came confusion.
Tiki was unpredictable. She jumped suddenly, grabbed things without warning, and sometimes tried to ride on Nino’s back. Nino didn’t like being touched like that. He liked slow, gentle play. Tiki, on the other hand, was wild and energetic. One time, she pulled his tail and ran off, screeching with laughter. Nino didn’t find it funny. He barked and chased her, but she was too fast. Ever since that day, he kept his distance.
There was also fear.
Monkeys move differently than dogs. Their eyes are sharp, their fingers quick, and their sounds strange. Nino was used to other puppies or gentle animals. But Tiki was loud and sudden. Her unpredictable behavior made him nervous. Once, she climbed on the roof and threw down mangoes, one of which hit Nino on the head. It wasn’t on purpose, but Nino didn’t forget.
Despite all this, Tiki never meant to be mean. She just didn’t understand how sensitive Nino was. She thought jumping, pulling, and chasing were signs of fun. But for Nino, it felt like teasing.
The villagers tried to help them get along. They gave them treats at the same time, encouraged gentle play, and even tied a rope between them so they could learn to walk together. But it took time.
Slowly, Tiki began to learn that Nino didn’t like surprises. She started moving slower around him. She offered him fruit and even sat beside him quietly sometimes. Nino still didn’t play much with her, but he stopped growling. He started accepting her presence, little by little.
The puppy didn’t dislike the monkey because he was bad—he disliked her because he didn’t understand her. And the monkey wasn’t trying to hurt the puppy—she just didn’t know how to be gentle.
With time, patience, and kindness, even the most unlikely friendships can grow. And one day, perhaps, Nino and Tiki would curl up together under the same tree, not as enemies—but as friends who had learned to understand each other.
