Visiting My Best Friend (furry, large but not hyper bits)

Lea's best friend was nothing like that. By contrast, Carla Tipping, a chipmunk ("Not a squirrel!", she would always proclaim loudly for anyone who dared call her one. "Look at my back! Stripe of black-white-black!"), was confident, boisterous, outgoing, and adventurous. She ran in different circles to Lea, connected with different people, had different everyday friends. Indeed, if Lea and Carla never lived on the same street, and had never met on the path to the same candy shoppe in the town down the way, they may never have met and become best friends. Lea smiled while she walked over various recollections of her young play time with Carla: journeying through neighbor's yards, climbing over things and under things, and collecting supplies (things to swing to protect them from roaming monsters, Carla advised) and 'herbs' (various flora, essentially) along the way to 'brew' in cupfuls of clear spring water (to Lea's insistence; Carla decried how boring it was at first, but both girls grew to admire the colorful swirls of the transferring petal dye).

Though those youthful days were long since gone (teenagerhood revised exploring the world into exploring oneself), and though Lea and Carla's interests had drifted off each others' courses somewhat, both girls still chose to get together from time to time just to hang out - to talk about almost everything, to share their experiences and advice with one another. Carla was often curious about female reproductive health since "my mom is terrible about explaining this stuff" and "my other friends think it's gay to discuss their parts", while Lea listened in awe to Carla's tales about flipping people off or otherwise deftly handling social situations. Lea felt like talking to Carla was a breath of fresh air; to nobody else could she feel she could really speak her mind and be heard, to receive a powerful perspective in return that made her feel a little less timid about doing things every day. Lea looked forward to days she could hang with Carla, and every step she took toward Carla's house was charged with the ecstatic feeling Carla felt the same way.

Lea danced with a bit of elation as she stood at the door to 1203, the whitewashed brick house of the Tipping family. She raised one set of knuckles and rapped them on the door, swaying on her legs as she waited for an answer. And waited. And waited. Enough time passed that Lea began to frown instead of smirk, the thought crossing her mind that perhaps Carla needed to run an errand or something and couldn't be here this very moment. Strange though, Lea thought. Carla had never failed to answer the door for her best friend, usually waiting nearby on the living room sofa specifically to open up and let the mouse girl in. As soon as Lea decided she'd knock again, fist raised and ready to knock, the door opened. Lea stared in her pose as the door creaked, slowly. Behind it was Mrs. Tipping, barely visible but for an eye and a half peering out to see who came to the house. "Yes? Who is it, now?"

Lea balked a little. She recognized Mrs. Tipping by voice, and knew the housewife might actually scatter if the wrong thing was said. Lea wondered sometimes how Carla and her mother could be the same species yet two incredibly contrary people. "Um, hello, Mrs. Tipping. I'm Lea, Carla's friend... Is she home?"

Mrs. Tipping didn't shut the door in Lea's face, thankfully. The entrance inched op

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