So here’s to the Cherokees of the world: the loud ones, the early risers, the harmonica players at dusk. They’re not breaking the peace. They’re keeping it from going silent.
When Mrs. Jenkins fell in her garden last winter, Cherokee heard her soft cry from three houses away — because he’s always listening, even when he’s blasting Motown. When the stray cat had kittens under his porch, he didn’t shoo them away. He named each one after a jazz legend and updated us nightly on their “first mews.” cherokee the noisy neighbor
Every neighborhood has one: the resident who doesn’t just live on the block, but fills it. For us, that’s Cherokee. So here’s to the Cherokees of the world: