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Adoption Agency: Patchwork run by The Patchwork

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Patchwork are little plush critters owned and run by SPO with the help of Riverwind. They were created by Crpytic on PonyIsland and Neocridders.

Trading
Patchies can be traded only during Trading Season with the use of Buttons purchased from the store. Each user must have a button in order to be able to trade. Patchies can be traded for other adoptables, SG, USD, and other site currencies as allowed by the respectable websites. Further directions will be on trading season threads.

Breeding
A Pincushion is required in order to breed. Additional items, like Pins or Paperclips may be purchased for special types of breedings. Patchies may only be bred during Breeding Season. Patchies only have enough spare material per season for one baby unless a Thimble is purchased.

Growing
All babies grow seven days after they are born.

Customs
Customs can only occur when the relevant threads are posted. Customs can be obtained off season by purchasing a Needle and Thread. The fee for the Needle and Thread is in addition to the normal fees for customs.

Where We Came From
By Rosedawn
There once lived a toy maker and his daughter, on the outskirts of a very small little town. The children loved visiting the toy maker because every toy that he made he made especially for that person. He always said that the most worthwhile thing to build was something that brought countless hours of joy. I remember my father telling me so when I was very small. I watched in awe of him as he stitched together this small little stuffed mouse, just for me, and placed it in my waiting arms. “And this one is special made for you, Little Mouse,” he laughed, and the whole room rattled and laughed along with him, “And so long as you take good care of it, it will take good care of you.”

But as time passed things changed. Instead of buying the special handmade pieces from the toymaker, children wanted the shiny new toys from the city. Everyone wanted to leave the small village behind, with its small old ways and go off on grand adventures far away. We left behind such things like stuffed animals and wooden swords and skipped towards the glow of the city like moths to a flame. Slowly but surely the little toy shop became little more than a memory, even to me. When I spoke with my father he would tell me how much he missed the laughter.

My father grew gravely ill shortly after that, and I rushed home to be by his side. He told me he had something very special waiting for me in the toy shop.

The place was covered in dust and grime from years of neglect. Buttons and ribbons and stuffing lay strewn on every table. I had no idea what he wanted me to find until I saw it, sitting on his favorite stool, my own little mouse. He’d patched the holes and cleaned the cloth from years and years of love and play, and even stitched up the place where one of my classmates had ripped it open, but he’d left the needle hanging. I picked up my old friend, feeling myself smile for the first time in days. Beneath was a little note, Take care of it, Little Mouse, and it will take care of you.

There was a single stitch left to tie off. Quickly I sewed up my old friend, tying the last knot and cutting it free. “Now you take care of the shop my little meece, while I go take care of Papa.”

The next morning I returned to the shop, determined to clean it up to be sold in order to pay for my papa’s medicine. When I entered the sounds of something scurrying caught my attention and I hurried to find the source. Following the sound to the work table, what I saw I could scarcely believe. My little meece (for how could I mistake it?) was actually MOVING. It was scurrying around, cleaning the shop!

When it saw me tiny squeaks and chittering erupted from inside. It rushed over, bouncing around until I picked it up. In its hands was a needle. It left that in my palm and hopped down to a pile of fabric and thread and buttons, cheeping all the while. “Do you want me to make you a friend?”

We have dozens now, and every time I tie that last knot they turn their heads and look at me with such love. A love I know I have to share. It’s exactly what my father wanted.