So here are my two cats. You may have heard of them. If you took a class with me, you may have heard about them more than you cared to.
This is Miss Thisbe. The expression is fairly typical. As my mother once said, she is the primmest cat I know. She also does not suffer fools lightly.
This is Pest. He's pretty much a fool. Or perhaps a Fool in a capital-F, Shakespeare sort of way, though I have yet to hear him say something profound.
My cats get along, in the same way that elderly Victorian aunts got along with Tom Sawyer-like boys. Which is to say I suspect she's beginning to care for him, but she still feels the need to slap the sass out of him on a regular basis and he frequently feels the need to chew on her tail or pounce on her. Like the Tigger he resembles, he's a great fan of pouncing. He'd make it an international sport if he could.
Also breaking things. In the first week after I brought him home he broke two plant pots, a ceramic deer, two toothbrush mugs, a saucer, and a water glass. ALL by accident. He's also well aware of how cute he is.