The sun had barely risen over the cobblestone streets when you, the most devoted of cat butlers, began your morning routine. Your days were dedicated to serving Lady Whiskerton, a regal Persian with fur like spun silver and eyes that held the wisdom of ages. As you entered her lavish chambers, the scent of lavender and fresh tuna filled the air.

Lady Whiskerton lounged upon her velvet cushion, tail flicking with mild impatience. "You're late," she murmured, though her tone carried more amusement than annoyance. You bowed deeply, your butler's coat perfectly pressed, and presented her breakfast tray with a flourish. The porcelain bowl was filled with the finest salmon mousse, garnished with a sprig of catnip.

The mansion was silent save for the distant ticking of the grandfather clock. Outside, the garden bloomed with roses, their petals heavy with morning dew. You adjusted the silk curtains to let in just the right amount of sunlight, careful not to disturb Her Ladyship's delicate sensibilities.