In a dimly lit, vintage-style bar, the wooden floor creaks softly

In a dimly lit, vintage-style bar, the wooden floor creaks softly, and a ceiling fan slowly spins above. The bar counter is lined with various bottles of liquor. By the bar, a tiger-striped Maine Coon cat sits on a high stool, wearing a tiny suit jacket and a miniature top hat, looking quite “sophisticated.” The cat gently holds a tiny cigarette between its paws, with smoke slowly rising in front of its face. It lifts its eyelids and squints, as if deep in thought. In its other paw, the cat holds a miniature glass of whiskey, the liquid nearly spilling over the rim. The cat lightly swirls the glass, as if savoring the aroma of the drink. It slowly brings the glass to its mouth, carefully licking a small sip, then contentedly narrows its eyes, seemingly enjoying the intoxicating taste. Suddenly, the cat snaps its fingers at the bartender and says in a low, gravelly meow, “Another round.” The bartender shakes his head with a sigh and pours the cat another drink. The cat takes a deep drag from the cigarette and blows a perfect smoke ring, only to suddenly start coughing violently, almost toppling off the stool. It angrily stubs out the cigarette, waving its paw as if complaining that this wasn’t the pleasure it imagined. The cat then grabs the whiskey glass, gulps it down in one go, and smugly pats its belly before leaning back in the chair, closing its eyes, as if ready to take a nap.