It's how cats always look at me. That over-the-shoulder "Who the **** are you?" look.
Apart from Crackers - the cat from down the street who isn't actually called Crackers, who comes and hangs out with me when I'm in my garden smoking, while all the other cats just stare at him bewildered, like he's completely socially inept.
And Seamus, my friend Jude's cat, who I call "Shameless". Who's so laid back you can play "Cat Buckaroo" on him and achieve a pretty impressive pile of rubbish before he'll get up and find somewhere else to nap.