The afternoon sun was burning softly through the thick clouds, casting a pale glow over the quiet village edge. The air smelled of dust and dry grass, and somewhere in the distance, a faint cry echoed—a cry that did not belong to a bird or human, but something far more fragile. It was the sound of a baby monkey calling for its mother.
The little monkey was barely a few months old, its body small and weak, with fur still soft like cotton. It had wandered too far from the mango tree where its mother usually rested. The mother had left for a short while to search for fruit near the fence of a nearby house. But the baby, curious and innocent, had climbed down from the tree, following the faint smell of food from the backyard of that house.
That house belonged to a man who owned a beautiful Siberian Husky named Snowy. The Husky was big, strong, and playful—but also territorial. When she saw something new moving near her yard, her instincts sharpened.
The baby monkey slowly crept closer to the house, looking around. Its little eyes sparkled with both fear and wonder. It found a half-eaten banana peel thrown near the water basin. Hungry and alone, the baby reached out with trembling hands to pick it up.
That single movement caught Snowy’s attention.
Inside the yard, the Husky suddenly lifted her head. Her blue eyes locked on the small moving figure near the gate. A low growl rumbled from her chest. Her tail stiffened, and her ears stood tall. To her, the strange little creature seemed like an intruder threatening her space.
The baby monkey froze. It could sense danger but didn’t know from where. It looked around, confused. Then the sound came—a deep bark that made the ground seem to shake.
“Woof! Woof! WOOF!”
Snowy lunged toward the fence. The baby jumped backward, tripped on a rock, and fell flat onto the dirt. Its tiny hands scraped against the ground, leaving small scratches. The monkey cried softly, “Ee… eee…!” The sound was full of panic.
Hearing her baby’s distant cry, the mother monkey stopped picking fruit. Her heart raced. She knew that cry—it was fear. She dropped the mango she was holding and sprinted across the tree branches, jumping with desperate speed.
Meanwhile, Snowy’s barking grew louder and more aggressive. She pushed at the half-open wooden gate until it creaked open enough for her to squeeze through. The moment she was out, she saw the baby monkey trying to climb a low tree. But the baby was too weak, too small. It slipped again and again, claws scratching helplessly against the bark.
The Husky charged forward.
The baby turned around, eyes wide with terror. It froze, unable to move, trembling so badly that even its little tail quivered. Before it could make a sound, Snowy was upon it. Her teeth snapped forward, catching the baby by the arm.
A scream burst from the baby monkey—high-pitched, desperate, and heart-breaking.
“EEEEEEEK!!! EEEEEEK!!!”
Snowy shook her head once, twice—just as she would with a toy. The baby’s small body twisted in the air, its arm torn and bleeding. Blood splattered onto the dry grass. The poor baby wailed, its voice full of agony.
“Ee…eeeeeek… eeee!”
The Husky’s owner, hearing the noise, ran outside.
“Snowy! NO! STOP!”
But Snowy was lost in her instinct. The smell of blood made her wilder. She bit again—this time on the baby’s back. The monkey’s tiny body went limp for a moment. Its breathing became shallow. Its cries turned into weak sobs, broken and faint.
Just then, the mother monkey arrived. She saw her baby bleeding on the ground and the huge dog standing over it. Without thinking, she screamed and leapt down from a tree, her whole body trembling with rage.
She ran toward the Husky, grabbing a stick from the ground, hitting and screeching with all the strength she had.
“EEEEEAAAAH! EEEEHH!”
Snowy turned, startled. The mother monkey hit her again, scratching and pulling her fur. The dog yelped, backing away slightly, confused by the sudden attack. The owner finally reached them, pulling Snowy by the collar.
“Snowy! Get back inside!”
The dog resisted for a moment, growling, then finally obeyed, retreating with her tail low and ears flat. But the damage was already done.
The mother monkey dropped the stick and fell to her knees beside her baby. Her hands shook as she touched the small body. The baby whimpered, its chest rising and falling rapidly. There were bite marks deep on its shoulder and back. Blood ran down, staining the ground dark red.
The mother gently lifted her baby, cradling it against her chest. She licked the wounds softly, tears forming in her eyes. The baby tried to hold onto her fur but was too weak. It cried faintly, “ee…ee…”—a sound so soft that it was almost a whisper.
The villagers began to gather. Some murmured in pity.
“Poor thing… the dog bit it so badly…”
“Someone call the animal rescue…”
The owner of the Husky looked ashamed. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said quietly, bringing a small towel and some antiseptic. “Let me help.”
The mother monkey, however, didn’t trust him. She backed away, clutching her baby tightly, glaring with tear-filled eyes. Her lips trembled as if she wanted to scream but couldn’t. She climbed up a low tree, still holding her baby close.
Under the shade, she sat and tried to clean the wounds again. The baby shivered and whimpered, eyes half-closed from pain. Flies started buzzing near the blood, and the mother swatted them away desperately.
Time passed slowly. The sun began to set, turning the sky orange. The mother monkey’s fur was wet with sweat and tears. She didn’t eat, didn’t move—just held her child, rocking it softly as if her warmth could ease the pain.
Hours later, the baby’s breathing grew weaker. Its tiny hands twitched, and a soft gasp escaped its mouth. The mother looked down, terrified. She touched her baby’s face, whispering low sounds, as if begging it to stay alive.
“Eee… eeeh…” she murmured.
But the baby’s eyes were losing focus. The pain was too much. The little chest rose one last time, then went still.
The mother monkey froze. For a few seconds, she didn’t move at all. Then a broken cry tore from her throat—long, deep, and full of unbearable sorrow.
“EEEEEEEEEHHHHHHH!”
The villagers nearby turned their faces away. Some began to cry quietly. The mother rocked her baby’s lifeless body, pressing it against her heart. She didn’t care about the blood or the dirt. She just held on.
That night, under the dim light of the moon, she still sat there, unmoving. The cold wind blew softly, but she didn’t notice. Her arms stayed wrapped around her child as if she feared that letting go would mean losing it forever.
The next morning, the rescue volunteers came. They found the mother still sitting by the same tree, eyes swollen, her baby lying still in her lap. When they tried to take the body away, she screamed and hugged it tighter. It took several minutes of gentle coaxing before she finally allowed them to help.
The rescuers buried the baby under a small tree near the forest edge. The mother sat nearby, watching silently as they placed flowers on the little grave. She touched the ground once with her hand, then walked away slowly, turning her head back again and again.
For days, she returned to the same spot, sitting quietly as if waiting for her baby to wake up. Sometimes she carried a leaf or a small fruit and placed it gently on the ground near the grave—tiny offerings for the one she had lost.
The Husky’s owner also visited the site every day. He brought food for the mother monkey and water, hoping she would forgive him. Snowy, too, seemed to understand something terrible had happened. She sat quietly behind the fence, no longer barking, her eyes sad whenever she saw the monkey pass by.
Life in the village slowly returned to normal, but for the mother monkey, nothing ever truly did. She became quieter, often sitting alone on high branches, looking toward the place where her baby had fallen. Sometimes, during the evening, she would still make that soft crying sound—“ee… ee…”—as if calling for her baby’s voice to answer back.
And though the world kept moving—dogs barked, children played, birds sang—the echo of that heartbreaking day never really faded. It remained in the air like a scar, reminding everyone who had seen it of how fragile life was, and how deep a mother’s love could be, even in the world of animals.
