Let me tell you a story about a feral cat Dexter—one of the four cats that I love to death. 

Dex and his family were living in an abandoned house in Queens when they were rescued and brought into an adoption center.

That’s where I got him.

The adoption paper says: “female cat.” 

That got me slightly confused.  Because upon closer examination, you’d notice, that unlike female counterparts the width of his fur-coat-stripes are 12% wider. Aha! That got me thinking… But not only that, his tongue appears to be 17% longer than that of females. Interesting, that’s two things that are out of the ordinary. 

Oh, and there is a third one…given that he’s got huge balls hanging under the tail, I figured that the adoption paper might just be wrong on that one. He’s the only male cat in my family, the other three are girls. A dream some might say.

His upbringing—”his teenage years”—were really tough for him. He is the youngest of the four.  They didn’t like the new kid on the block. So they weren’t very nice to him, to say the least. They were bullying him hard. He was a cute little fur-ball, such a sweetheart.The rest of the gang didn’t think so—they constantly hissed at him and didn’t let him hang around with them at all.  Even though he just wanted some company, and someone to play with. 

The kiddo just craved some love. Little did they know how it’s gonna turn out for them when this little gorgeous kitten is going to grow up into a pit bull—from the streets. This dude knows what’s up. “The North Remembers”… And so does Dexter. That sweetheart grew up holding a grudge. Now Dexter reminds them every day how poorly they treated him when he was just a baby. 

He chases all of them wreaking havoc in our apartment. He doesn’t let them relax at all.

The moment he sees them chilling, he’s gotta do something about that.

He is such an as*hole to the rest of my cats—the stuff he does to them..there are just no words to describe it. 

He is sweet and cute with people, Mr. Charming, and “not so much” with his fellow cats. All four cats of mine are adopted, but he is the only one who was feral. So the word skittish doesn’t really apply to him. I remember, one day he was hanging in the kitchen with me and my former partner.  

You know, he was just chilling in the corner doing nothing as that’s what most cats do during the day. Either that or sleep. And suddenly he got up, stretched and went to one of her favorite plants and just bumped it on the floor as if it was something that he does every day. 

Then he started vigorously playing in the dirt and all the mess he made right IN FRONT of her.The courage it takes…If I did that, I’d catch a kick in the balls before even such thought appeared in my mind, but not this guy. 

No shame. No hesitation.

It’s insane that every mean trick that he pulls you can see a pure satisfaction on his face. “Yes, I did my job for today. Tomorrow is another day. I’ll do something else.” 

I never dared to do such a thing in front of her, I knew better than that. I’d never make it out alive If I did. He’s got some real balls, I’ll tell you that. Another time, I caught him peeing in her plant. Hahaha, that’s my boy. He did that right in front of me as if he was comparing the size of his balls. I couldn’t stop laughing. He won for sure. 

He has never ever peed anywhere but his litter. 

I believe she must have given him less food or less attention that he hoped for that day, and that’s his way of payback. Knowing him, I truly believe that. 

Growing up, Dexter, was no ordinary cat at all. How do I know that?He started doing pull-ups on a second day I brought him home.  Damn pull-ups, man. A cat…

What the hell… I think he sensed that the other three cats are not very fond of him coming to live with them, so he had to learn how to defend himself. 

So he started doing pull-ups every single day. No kidding.  And with a perfect technique too.  You know how cats normally jump on things? He is not like that.
For some reason, he thought, that climbing by pulling himself up is a better way of accomplishing the same thing—slowly but surely, engaging all the muscles in the body. 

In less than 6 months he’d become more masculine than I thought was possible for a cat. 

I called him a pit bull, or a horse at first as a joke.

No, not a pony.

A horse. He runs—the whole apartment trembles.  

While other cats routine was eating/sh*tting/sleeping and licking and sniffing each other’s behinds in between, it seemed that his routine was gaining muscle by all means necessary. It’s like he was training for Mr.Olympia.  

Each of my cats knows where their food plate is supposed to be. Even though all plates look identical, they know exactly which plate belongs to them.

But that is only relevant to skittish ones because they are afraid to eat from the others’ plate scared of retaliation, which of course will follow. 

Still, normally, they don’t eat from each other plates. They wait for you to put some food on “their own” plate. Not Dexter though. 

He would just gobble most of his food in five and a half seconds, then go to another cat’s plate and eat their food too— they just stand there, shocked, contemplating how is this a thing? 

Meanwhile, he is coming back to his own plate and finishing up that too. Then he goes around the room looking for the left-overs or anything else he can find. That’s every day.  

Because of his habit of stealing others food, I have to feed my cats secretly from him in the bathroom behind closed doors, especially the more skittish ones that eat slower than him.  

And surprise-surprise, EVERY single cat eat slower than him. It’s ridiculous, how smart Dexter is. He figured out that if he starts eating his food, no-one can go near his plate, they are afraid of his power. 

Some ALPHA-stuff going on.
 

He just goes to their plates eats 80% of their food, and then in no rush comes back to his plate and finishes that too. Then he makes rounds and checks out the leftovers and finishes them too. 

As you can see on the photo above, he doesn’t even bother jumping on top of the fridge, he is comfortable as is. He stood in this position until he finished Maggy’s plate. 

What did she do? She went into her house-carbon-box(as seen in the previous photo), and watched him demolish her food, shocked.

 The next thing he is passionate about is cleaning himself. Thoroughly. 

Isn’t that an OCD of sorts? You touch him in any spot after he already cleaned there, he is gonna growl nervously at first, wavering his tail like a baseball bat. Dare to touch him again, he’ll bite you, or claw you.

he would anxiously start to clean that spot again to repair the “damage” you did with your nasty ugly-looking dirty hands.

That’s not the end of it. Not long after his meal, he then goes around, from one room to another and makes loud sounds like a whale. 

At first for the world of me, I just couldn’t figure out, why the hell is he screaming like that?  This is no ordinary screaming — it’s nothing like when they beg for food. 

This one is a different animal. It’s a much deeper, louder sound coming from his chest. It took me a while to understand what he’s trying to say so passionately. I just couldn’t put two things together. 

One day I finally figured it out and grew to like that sound a lot as I was able to understand its essential purpose. It’s an evacuation siren!He is an extremely considerate cat — he loves everyone. EVERYONE! 

How do I know that? Because he wants everyone to be aware that a nuclear warhead is about to be dropped around here. He’s giving you a timer too— you’ve got two minutes. So if you wanna live,  you better get the hell out from the apartment. 

Immediately! 

Let me tell you—his sh*t is lethal! It kills flies: it stuns them, and then they suffocate and die—they don’t even have to land on it. This sh*t is like the exploded Chernobyl reactor. 

Everything in the area is affected by a radiation level so high, that it’s not suitable for any life form. The flies get paralyzed mid-air so they attempt to crash-land nearby, where he is patiently waiting to play with them afterward.

And It’s a slow death, too— since he doesn’t eat flies. 

For all those people who say that cats smell. That’s nonsense. Mine sure don’t. Their sh*t does.  It smells so much, that your eyes can just pop out the orbits if you don’t take necessary measures ASAP.Like I said, thank god, Dexter is so considerate, that he announces exactly when “sh*t is about to get real,” so that I can brace myself and prepare for what’s coming. And oh, boy it’s coming, he always makes sure of that. 

There is no false alarm with this guy. He does the announcing thing every single day. So funny and strange. Every time you seat down to eat, he is ready for you, baby.  He’s a mean boy! His other hobbies include running in sprints.  

When he sees one of the cats just woke up and they started to walk away, he reads it as an affirmative signal that they desperately want to be chased by him. I call him trainer Dexter. He is the main reason none of my cats are overweight. 

Dexter makes sure they stay disciplined and on the path.  He chases them so hard, that even if they don’t feel like running, they’re kinda left with no choice. And since he also eats the majority of their food, I figured, he just wants to make sure they don’t overeat and don’t become obese.  

Such a nice guy He knows, health comes first. Unfortunately for the other cats, Dexter remembers well that they bullied him hard when he was little. Now that he is huge and strong he makes sure to bully them as much as possible to make up for everything that they’ve done to him when he was little. 

“A Lannister always pays his debts”. So does Dexter. All jokes aside, I absolutely adore this boy. He is so gorgeous, cute and unique. He’s giving me tons of positive energy every day. Every single day when I pet him, you can tell he highly appreciates that so he comes for more.  He is the one that wakes me up every morning. 

He jumps on my bed, and stick his body next to my face, ready to be pet and fed — that’s a real delight. Every morning starts with a smile and a mouth full of hair.  Life is absolutely beautiful! What more can you wish for?