Our cats (Mr. Lacroix on the left and Saffy on the right) always look like they are either guilty of something, like they are looking at the dumbest human ever or like they are about to use their back claws to murder me in my sleep for not giving them the right flavor of canned food.
In an interesting bit of history, even though we’re pretty sure Lacroix is gay, he loves boobs. He felt me up before my girlfriend did. Every time I tried to move away, his pervy paws came back. I love him anyway.