"One of these days you'll evolve into something sentient," Slim sneered. He slapped a ten credit coin onto the bar. "Barkeep," he said to the two-and-a-half meter felinoid using its claws to pick dishwasher spots from a beer stein. "I need some information."
As the insulted fungoid slimed away, the cat-woman behind the bar looked at the human's coin and purred: "Hey, Sapiens, they say once you go feline, you don't go back."