Are there countertops in neopets

...Contrary to what the title might suggest, this is therapy-related, I promise...
First, a bit of background...
When I was a kid, some of my favorite toys were fast food freebies, particularly those from McDonalds in the 90s through the early 2000s (side note; how was it that life seemed sooooo much better in every way during that time frame, as opposed to now? Anyway...). My favorite McDonalds promos/giveaways were Teenie Beanie Babies, 101 Dalmatians, Neopets, and the Disney ones where there was a small action figure in a corresponding miniature VHS box (Merlin for The Sword in the Stone, Tigger for The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, Alice for Alice in Wonderland, etc). I had three of those Disney figures I loved: Robin Hood, whom a babysitter I loved gave to me, Dodger from Oliver and Company, and...Bambi.
After receiving Bambi in a Happy Meal when I was about 6, I immediately became attached to him. He had poseable legs, and the warmest, friendliest eyes and smile I'd ever seen on a toy up to that point. With his gentle, welcoming expression, Bambi pretty much became a comfort item for me, and I loved how he fit right into my pockets. Even though I was only 6, adults were already starting to give me a hard time about carrying a stuffed animal around everywhere (even though it kept me calm/helped me feel safe, and I'm sure I communicated this as best I could at that age - and anyway, most of my favorite plushies were like Beanie Baby size; we're not talking about stuffed animals as big as me, or as big as their real-life counterparts), but no one had to know Bambi was in my pocket.
One Wednesday afternoon, I had to attend group therapy (keep in mind that I'm the poster with all the horror stories about the therapist who made it her mission to find out what kids liked best - whether it was certain foods (cookies, candy, pizza) or toys (specifically, Beanie Babies) and then hold these items hostage/make enjoyment of these items contingent on whether kids could or would comply with whatever she and their parents/caregivers/teachers wanted), and, of course, Bambi rode along in my pants pocket. I felt so much more at ease there as long as I had Bambi with me. At one point during the session, I felt in my pocket for Bambi, only to realize he wasn't there. This led to my having an immediate meltdown/panic attack, and I rushed out of the therapy room to retrace my steps (I knew he must be somewhere inside the office area) with the therapist and other kids in pursuit. I then recalled that I'd used the restroom prior to the session, and when I entered the restroom and didn't see Bambi anywhere on the floor or countertops/sink, I began wailing that Bambi must have been flushed down the toilet. I recall being legitimately distressed - to me, this was as if I'd been suddenly separated from a beloved, living pet or family member - so, of course, this led to the therapist and kids making fun of my meltdown/panic attack and gaslighting me about how "I wAS GEtTInG UPsET OvER NOthINg," "It's JuST A St*PiD TOY," "SToP BeInG SUch A BabY/Ps*ChO," etc.
After I was basically bullied into (somewhat) calming down and was beginning to grow numb to the likelihood that I wouldn't see Bambi again, I returned to the therapy room, took my seat on the couch, then checked between the cushions and who did I find there but Bambi! Of course I began to cry all over again (this time from joy and utter relief), which led to more verbal abuse from the therapist and kids, but I didn't care about that right then.
When I returned for group therapy the following Wednesday, I was greeted by the other kids making fun of the meltdown I'd had over temporarily losing Bambi the previous week. One boy in the group had even made up a song about it. Their mockery lasted pretty much the entire session, and as I sat there pretending to be able to laugh at myself (which is a skill I've never quite been able to develop to others' satisfaction), the therapist leaned over to me and said, "Thank you for letting us poke some fun at you about this, ARoWT, you're such a good sport!" Gee, thanks, lady.
Afterward, my fondness for my Bambi toy was diminished, to an extent. I no longer thought of him as a comfort item nor took him places with me. Many years later, when I made a friend on the internet who loved Bambi and collected Bambi items, I sent her my Bambi figure as a gift. She loved him, and I was glad, since as the years went by, the memories Bambi held only grew more painful. Some time after that, I decided to look for my Bambi figure on Ebay in a feeble attempt at healing, but even when my new Bambi arrived, the memories remained, and Bambi has stayed hidden in the corner of one of my shelves since then.
I'm 31 now, and even all the teasing, gaslighting, condescension and - on occasion-having certain items taken away from me-I endured from needing comfort items throughout my life hasn't stopped me from carrying at least one at all times...only in my pockets or bags, where no one can see. For the last almost-7 years, my go-to comfort item has been a Disney Tsum Tsum plush of Dory from Finding Nemo/Dory, whom I call "Little Dory." Honestly, if people like my parents/therapists/teachers were/are so affronted by my needing a comfort item, maybe they should have thought of that prior to all of their concerted efforts to condition my mind to never feel completely safe anywhere, and therefore needing to self-soothe that way.
(Not sure whether to flair this as "Therapy Abuse" or "Therapy Critical," so I'm just going with "Critical.")
EDIT: Everyone has been so kind and supportive of how much I loved my toy Bambi when I was young, that I ordered the same one from Ebay a few days ago! He just arrived yesterday, and I gave him a wash and have been carrying him in my pocket since then, just like I did so many years ago! Thank you all! :)
Here he is: https://imgur.com/a/6vZViMc