Tuke, King of the Suburban Jungle

Tuke is the family cat. Let me rephrase that... Tuke is my daughters' cat that somehow got transferred to my house to serve his time when the wife and I divorced. It didn't take long to figure out that this isn't your run-of-the-mill cat. I'll explain.
Tuke has a perfectly good litter box that he refused to use. He may, on occasion, walk over to it, paw some kitty litter onto the floor and walk away from it, but never ever shits in it. When he has to "go" he walks to the door and asks for the door to be open and he will walk right into a thunderstorm to pee. When he's done he comes back, knocks on the door (yes, knocks on the door... I don't know how, exactly, but he does) and spends the rest of the day laying around.
Tuke obviously has no great fear of water, kinda strange, but he had a habit of getting into the tub with me when I was taking a shower. Just paw around a bit, get a sip of soapy water, and leave a trail of wet paw prints down the hallway when he was done.
He has a water dish...doesn't drink from it. The sinks, the tub, the toilets (damn the toilet!!) but definitely not the water dish.
Last summer we had a two-day trip planned so I filled up his food and water dish, made sure the litter box was clean, left the kitchen window cracked for some fresh air and left him home alone. He was forced to use both the water dish and litter box. Or so I thought.
I returned home to find it ransacked. Not from a burglar, from the damn cat. Plants knocked over, toilet paper pulled off the roll, blinds in disarray, pictures on the floor, books knocked over... you name it, it looked like a home invasion robbery had taken place. The cat, however, was missing.
Very confused, I searched everywhere to find no Tuke. Then I found it. He cut a hole in the screen in the kitchen window that I left cracked and made his escape. He returned home a short time later very proud of himself, leering at the litter box as he walked with a bit of attitude in his strut to the food dish.
Now the wife and I have reconciled and plan to co-habitate so I called a realtor to list my house. He called early the other morning and woke me to tell me he was coming to photo the house. I stepped out of the bed and walked into the hallway to find the house COVERED in feathers. Feathers were everywhere. All over the floors, on the furniture, counters, appliances, every nook and cranny. I found a dead bird and apparent blood letting in the office and a second deceased in the living room floor.
I should have known better, should have closed the window, should put him out at night so I don't have to deal with him while I am trying to sleep, but I didn't. So the realtor is on his way and the race is on. Anyone looking to move to Arkansas? The cat may stay with the house.