He's never been entirely sure of his tail

Today Julian was sitting behind me while I read the football news in the paper, protesting the clearly inadequate nature of his provisions by emitting periodic sad meows. At one point, I shifted my feet slightly and he meowed in a fashion completely identical to all his previous utterances, and I looked down to discover I was standing on his tail. Being fed terrible food = completely the same amount of distress as having your tail trodden on.