Meet Gracie OUR Cat, Well Sorta?

Gracie has deemed herself the neighborhood cat, even though she can't talk, meows more like. Everyone up the street knows her, especially the squealing kids zombing after her with crusty booger fingers. Neighbors have gone so far to leave cat food and water out for her on their porch in colored IKEA bowls, afraid the FAT cat will starve. They even leave their garages cracked to provide a spare bedroom for her. What's funny, is she pays attention to the family that throws cats to the wind-The Harrises. Anytime I am cooking, Gracie is there at the screen door pawing at it (hope that scratched screen doesn't come out in our rental deposit). Anytime Mat goes out for his morning run, she is spooked off of the rocking chair on the the front porch. She even so proudly brought me a baby mole like animal--couldn't tell exactly what lifeless animal that was, but she sat it down on the back porch and puffed with pride. It's as if we shook or pawed on this unsaid deal. You can stay outside on my porch and catch as many moles as you want as long as you let my kids think that we have a cat and we don't have to feed you.