I am a ten-time SA world champion ballroom dancer, specializing in waltz, foxtrot, and the occasional tango (though my short legs make tango a bit difficult at times). I have retired from competing, but I still maintain my daily training routine and find inspiration in the artistry of my students. I would love to be adopted by a family who shares my passion for dance and whose house has an open floor plan suitable for impromptu after-dinner waltz lessons.

I have my own studio where I conduct SA classes four times a week, and I would gladly offer a discount to any of your SAs who are interested in exploring the magical world of dance.

Cheerio!

Hello! My name is Wilma. I grew up in the Charleston, SC with an adopted family of humans and living animals. I never spent any time with other SAs while I was growing up. I definitely didn’t know I had any SA siblings until I happened upon The SARF website and saw a photo of another stuffed monkey who looked exactly like me! I contacted The SARF, and after a few tests they confirmed that Julius and I are in fact siblings! With my human family’s blessing, I traveled to Austin to meet him. Julius has since been adopted, but I hope to keep in touch. I decided to stay at The SARF for awhile so I could learn more about my stuffed heritage. Though I still love my old family very much, we have decided that it would be good for me to look for a new home in a family with a lot of other SAs, particularly other stuffed monkeys!

Although Alcatraz was closed to human prisoners in 1963, few realize that stuffed inmates continued to be housed there for decades more. Because operating costs associated with feeding, housing, and restraining SAs are significantly lower than those required for live prisoners, the small-yet-dangerous SA population remained incarcerated on the island despite the subsequent influx of tourists, protesters, and occasional action film crews.

In recent years, however, the SA prison population has been in steady decline, due in part to the emergence of rehabilitation programs like those available at The SARF. This has led to the closing and consolidation of many large SA detention facilities; the lingering SA wing of Alcatraz (SAlcatraz) was one of these pegged for decommission in 2008. It was officially closed in 2010, and the remaining prison population was spread throughout partnering rehab facilities such as The SARF.

Horace has been in therapy at The SARF since 2010, and he has made significant progress. After 3 years of rehabilitation, he is excited to be participating in his first SA petting zoo.

This marks a giant step in his journey and is further evidence that SAs are capable of reform if given the proper guidance, opportunities, and encouragement.

When you’re a stuffed cupcake, it’s like you’re getting your cheeks pinched by a creepy movie aunt every second of every day. Forever. Sticking with (on) Ernest seems to help diffuse the attention, though.

Ernest is a funny one. Honestly, I’m not 100% convinced he’s as anxious as he says he is, but I do know he doesn’t get out much. Who could blame the guy, though? He’s not exactly made of wallflower material. He’s all dots and flashes mashed up like the 4th of July. He’s a walking conversation starter (except that he can’t walk on his own)… not that I have it much better!

*Arlington and Ernest must be adopted together. Please fill out separate applications for each.

(Hippopotamus cylindrus, common name: Stuffed Tootsie Hippo)

Don’t let my outrageous appearance fool you. It’s just my species. I’m actually quite mellow. Rather shy, really. I wouldn’t call it a disorder or anything, but most social situations do make me anxious. Having Arlington up there does help quite a bit, but I’m still not exactly having a blast at the petting zoos.

I mostly read and watch a lot of Netflix. Arlington’s been known to drag me out to Ikea every now and then or to the occasional birthday dinner, but I’m happiest hanging out at home.

*Arlington and Ernest must be adopted together. Please fill out separate applications for each.

No matter what anyone tells you, I’m just you’re average down-home soccer mom because you know it’s the toughest job in the world to raise a healthy stuffed calf especially in this day and age with the technologies there are and so forth. We should be proud of ourselves because our work is never done and we have the right to drink tea because it is in our constitutions as individuals in this great stuffed nation of the world! Stuffed elephants like me need our tea parties in the early afternoons, and we believe everyone should have their tea whenever they want it, wherever they want it. Because its our right as a stuffed elephant and we’re not going to let anyone take that right away.

I’m good at a lot of things. I can paint your house and change your oil, and I can do your taxes and write your college entrance essay. You might call me a Renaissance Horse. Still, I can’t help but think that when you spread yourself thin like I do, it’s hard to really ever be the absolute best. I’m coming to accept it, though, especially when I factor in all of the money I save on household repairs and unneeded tutoring costs. I’d be a pretty good addition to your family. I’m a real workhorse (pardon the pun)!

We are so tired of being called old-fashioned just because we like our tea after we take our calves to school. Sarah and I have our parties just like all of you who are real stuffed elephants in the heartland of this nation in which we live. Our morning tea parties are a forward-looking party who wishes to turn back the clock on the tea of today and return it to its strong and tasteful flavors of that which it once was when it was before now.

Yep, I’m a wombat. That’s right, mate. I’m not a giant hampster or an earless version of one of those crazy giant German bunnies. I’m a great big stuffed wombat. I like rugby, rugby players, going tubing in the summer, and hunting for interesting-smelling mosses. I’ve been enjoying hanging out at Nasty’s, the rugby bar across the street from The SARF. Don’t tell anyone, but they let me in even though I’m underage. I told them wombat years are totally different, and they believed me!

… H-h-h-hello th-th-th-there… I’m a blue crab. Please don’t try to f-f-fry me up or steam me. Do you promise? My adoptive live crab family told me to be careful of humans… especially ones with steamer baskets or d-d-d-dogs or bags or shovels. I was separated from them when we were trying to cross the Chesapeake Bay Bridge/Tunnel. They didn’t have money to pay the toll, but I could cross for free since I’m stuffed. It was sad, but they wanted me to go on my own so I could try to find other stuffed crabs like me. I haven’t found any yet. I’m not good at trying. Do you know any? Um… The SARF people s-s-s-seem n-n-n-n-nice. They do have a lot of b-b-bags and sh-sh-shovels, but I think they use them for different things. I think I am finished with my bio now.