Herding Cats on a Runway at the Algonquin

It was moments before a fashion show, and Elvis, clad in a leather and leopard-print jumpsuit, was having a meltdown backstage. Blood was drawn and fur flew, so a therapist was called in to calm the divo with a combination of Reiki massage, soft music and a dash of catnip.

Elvis is a 25-pound savannah, a gray-spotted cat that traces its roots to the African serval (fans might recognize him as a centerfold model in “The Ultimate Guide to Cat Breeds”). He straightened his whiskers. At last he was runway-ready for the cat fashion show and debutante ball, held at the Algonquin Hotel on Wednesday night.

The Algonquin, on West 44th Street, has had a cat-in-residence since the late 1930s when the first one wandered in. The event Wednesday was a coming-out party for its newest one, Matilda III. She’s on Facebook and Twitter (@Algonqueen).

A cat’s idea of a party might be a few uninterrupted hours with a ball of string. This party seemed like a cat’s worst nightmare: a fashion show of cats decked out like furry little Lady Gagas in custom outfits by Meow-Wear. Mya, the singer who was runner-up on “Dancing With the Stars,” presided.

Kashmir, a ragdoll, was dressed like Scheherazade; Frenchie was a fluffy Napoleon. Tiffany, a Devon rex, channeled Nicki Minaj in rose-colored sunglasses. Elvis was towed in a pink Cadillac while being soothed by Carole Wilbourn, who bills herself as the cat therapist.

After the show, the models posed for a picture. It was too many divas for one stage: The cats swiped at one another when they got too close. Mya posed with them, bravely.

“I was slightly afraid of cats,” Mya told us earlier, “because of the claws. But I love them now.”

Just a Little Bit

We did the unthinkable as we tried to interview Aretha Franklin at Representative Charles B. Rangel’s 81st birthday party, held at the Plaza Hotel on Wednesday night: We stepped on the voluminous train of her spangled white dress.

We apologized and sat down.

“My dress is caught on your chair leg,” she said. We stifled a gasp. We had disrespected Ms. R-E-S-P-E-C-T herself.

Ms. Franklin had just serenaded guests like former Gov. David A. Paterson, former Mayor Edward I. Koch, Comptroller John C. Liu and a bevy of borough presidents with songs like “Chain of Fools” and of course, “Respect.” It seemed we had lost the formidable woman’s respect.

Was she close to the birthday boy, we asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked as her eyes flashed. What exactly were we implying? (Nothing, we swear.) We gulped.

We asked if she had always supported the Democratic Party. “I’m not going to talk politics,” she said. We fought the urge to apologize for being born.

We stuck to interviewing people without gowns for us to destroy and found Mr. Rangel. His real birthday is June 11. “My birthday,” he said, “is just whenever I can get a place to celebrate it.”

Mr. Liu told us about being comptroller. “They’re mostly just confused about the spelling: ‘Is it “con” or “comp”?’ ” he said. “I tell them I prefer to comp people, not con them.”

Mr. Paterson spoke about life post-governorship. “The best thing for me is waking and realizing that not everything is being blamed on you,” he said. “There was a rumor two months ago that the world would come to an end. If I was governor, it probably would have, and I would have gotten blamed for it.”

He sounded as if he could have used a little more respect. We, too.

11 Going on 40

To be frank, Nocturnalist was too chicken to see the horror movie “Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark.” We did make the after-party for the premiere on Monday night, held at the Atlantic Grill. Katie Holmes, the movie’s star, however, did not.

“I’m so sorry. She’s not coming,” a public relations person told us as we waited at the bar to interview Ms. Holmes, breaking the news the way you tell a child there is no Santa Claus.

We had been eager to interview Ms. Holmes about small men — the homunculi who infest her character’s house in the movie.

But in walked Bailee Madison, an 11-year-old star of the film, and Ms. Holmes in miniature. What a great dress, we said.

“It’s vintage,” she said, touching Nocturnalist’s arm and telling us we were “too kind.”

She had the poise of a star of the silver screen, and the flawlessness of an American Girl doll. Was she 40 years old?

“I’m not,” she said with a benevolent smile. “I really hear that so many times.”