Mia has a new collar on, and it’s a major change for all of No. 6. For eight months now, we’ve all been living one way and, like pretentious phonies, portraying ourselves another.

As you may know, my move from Georgia did not include Mia Jane. A bad traveler who is among the slim percentage of the cat population who has an adverse reaction to tranquilizers, Mia was no way riding in the car with us across the country. Instead, she shacked up at Spa Marietta with the Edgars (my dad and Pauline), where she enjoyed a new diet of mostly treats and tuna, which she still screams to be given despite eight months of denial. The airlines refusing to fly pets in the heat of summer, Mia had to remain in her deep South homeland until my parents brought her along at the end of the year.

Mia arrived very changed. Not only was she a food snob, she was also rib-skinny from outdoor play. And she was wearing a collar with peace signs all over it. Peace signs. On Mia. Since her hissy, territorial ways had not been one of the facets to change, Mia proceeded to terrorize Linus for months until he finally lost patience and mustered the energy to pounce on her. So since then, there’s been anything but peace at No. 6. The battles are one-sidedly loud (Mia, aka “Banshee,” aka “Raccoon” making all of the noise), and one-sidedly won (Linus, weighing in at twice as much as said raccoon, packing all the punch). Sometimes these battles take place while we’re gone, which we know because when Linus starts after Mia, Mia immediately drops half the hair from her body in the place where she’s standing and then flees, leaving behind a crime scene of fur. Sometimes these battles take place while we’re home, and we can easily stop them by touching, or motioning as if to touch, the affection-insatiable Linus. Sometimes these battles happen while we are asleep, on our bed, on top of us.

Anyway, as of yesterday’s fun shopping excursion with Sarah and Christina, Mia now wears a more appropriate collar. It’s “Look Out” orange in color, “Punk Ass” suede in texture, and adorned with small charms depicting fish skeletons. No more will the peace signs tell a tale untrue. Now we live with our hearts on our sleeves and our souls—our hissy, fish-bony souls—on our collars.