About four months ago, I was getting ready for work. It was my usual rushing around in the morning: Hair washed? Check! Have shoes on? Check! Book to read on BART? Check! All ready to go!

I opened the door, and Ida B. the cat ran out. "Ida B!" I yelled. "It's going to rain today. You can't go out in the rain."  She looked at me as if she was saying: "I don't believe you. I'm busting out!"

She ran to the next-door apartment building. I ran over there, wondering how I was going to explain this to Ivory and Abe when I got to work. "Well, Ida B. ran out of the house, and I had to go get her..." Would they believe me? On the other hand, would they...

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a voice yell: "Get out of here, damned cat!"

What the hell?  I ran in the back yard to see a man pointing at Ida B., who was cowering. "Ida B!" I called out to her. "It's okay, I'm right here."

The man looked at me. "Is that your cat?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"You better keep her out of my garden. She's been messing it up."

Suddenly I felt like a mom of a kid who got caught shoplifting. It took everything I could not to yell back at him "Hey, have you seen this cat? She might be just ten pounds, but she's had a mind of her own since she was six weeks old.  Also I might look harmless, but if you touch her I wrestle you to the ground so fast it will make your head spin."

However, I didn't. For I remembered Mr. Rogers.

Anyone who is my age (38 in three months) knows who Mr. Rogers was. The calm man who was on PBS, the man who had the best sweaters and was spoofed by Eddie Murphy. The man who could throw a sneaker in the air like it was no one's business. Whose voice could make anyone feel better.

Fred Rogers was an ordained minister who worked at a local TV station with puppets. According to Wikipedia, he decided to work through television to help children with ordinary fears: Will they go down the drain in the bathtub? What does someone do when they're angry?  Is it okay to have an imagination?

In his calm voice, he told children you wouldn't go down the drain, it's okay to get angry but to not hurt anyone when you're angry.

Which is why at that moment when I looked at the man angry with Ida B., I said to him: "I'm really sorry about your garden. I'll do my best to keep her away from it." By then Ida B. walked over to me, and I held her tight. "I'm really sorry," I repeated, then I ran back home with her in my arms.

After I dropped her off, I walked to BART, thinking of Mr. Rogers. Even as a teenager, I still watched him in the mornings. I loved how every day there was a different piece of art on the wall near the kitchen, how in some ways he never aged. However, my favorite parts were the Land of Make Believe.

It was such a magical world. No visual effects or 3-D stuff, but a world where everyone got along. There was the crabby King Friday and the sweet Queen Esther like Princess Sara. There was X the Owl and Henrietta the cat. A couple of weeks ago Ivory asked me: "Who was the cat in Mr. Rogers Neighborhood again?"

"It was meow meow Henrietta meow meow," I replied.

"You do a great impression of her," she said, impressed.

Lady Elaine Fairchilde was my favorite. With her red nose and matching cheeks, she called everyone "Toots" and had been around the block a couple of times. She was ornery and sarcastic, yet was a good friend and more importantly, a good neighbor.

In 1997, Mr. Rogers was awarded a lifetime achievement Emmy. He received a standing ovation of course, then he asked the audience a unusual request. "All of us have special ones who have loved us into being. Would you just take, along with me, ten seconds to think of the people who have helped you become whom you are. Ten seconds of silence." He looked at his watch, and said, 'I'll watch the time.'"

I sat there crying. Of course, I thought of my parents. My grandmother Thora, and my grandfather who died six months before. My cousin Sericea. Meranda, one of my closest friends. All my favorite teachers: Mrs. Silher, Mrs. Steele, Ms. Cullen, Mrs. Jarvis, Mr. Atkinson, Ms. Juska, and Ms. Hansen. Susan. Ten seconds was too short.

Four years later, he died of stomach cancer. I heard about it in the morning and then I did errands. My mother picked me up from school, and on NPR, they were doing a tribute with him singing "Some people are fancy on the outside, some people are fancy on the inside..." Mom and I started to sing along, and then I burst into tears. "He wasn't in pain when he died, was he? God, I hope he wasn't in pain." I said, sobbing.

"No sweetie, he wasn't in pain, he was probably ready to die. He's always going to be with us, though."

Indeed he will be. After my confrontation with my neighbor, I was walking one day when he approached me. "You're the one with the white cat, right?" he asked.

I took a step back, frightened. I wished I had a stun gun. "Yeah look, if she..."

"I'm sorry I yelled at her and you that day. She's come back to visit and she makes sure that the squirrels doesn't mess up the garden.  She's really nice."

I smiled and relaxed. "Thank you. I'm glad she helps you with the garden."

We said good-bye, and I continued walking. I looked at the sky. I watched a cloud move slowly across the sky. "Thanks Mr. Rogers. You saved the day again."

It's a good feeling
Such a happy feeling

It's such a good feeling to know you're alive.
It's such a happy feeling
You're growing inside.
And when you wake up ready to say
I think I'll make a snappy new day
It's such a good feeling,
A very good feeling,
The feeling you know that we're friends.

It's a good feeling
It's a happy feeling

It's such a good feeling
To know you're in tune.
It's such a happy feeling to find you're in bloom
And when you wake up ready to say
I think I'll make a snappy new day.
It's such a good feeling,
A very good feeling,
The feeling you know that we're friends.

And I'll be back
When the day is new
And I'll have more ideas for you.

And you'll have things you'll want to talk about.
I will too.