The Algonquin Chief Cat Officer: Alice de Almeida

In 1932, my forebear Billy wandered into the enchanting lobby of a hotel best known for hosting notable writers, journalists and actors at its famous round table. Although owner and hotel manager, Frank Case, knew that Billy had no literary reputation or journalistic experience to speak of, he let him reside at the Algonquin. From this moment, a tradition was born, and there has been one of our kind in residence ever since.

In 2019, I sit in an office upstairs at that same hotel on a huge black chair that has a tendency to move around a little on its wheels, especially when I am feeling jumpy. I press send on my one-word email that reads “CATsolutely”, confirming an interview I have later with a journalist. I stare at the giant framed painting of a silver ragdoll cat above the desk, thinking of my own portrait downstairs that has been painted in a similar style. I hope mine doesn’t make me look as fat. The thought is quickly interrupted by the sound of an email coming through with the eager response:

Puurrfect! See you later.

God, I hate journalists, but she gets the bit. To be honest, I am not sure how I feel about these cute cat puns – like catabulous and FURiend – but this is not up to me and while I am being honest I didn’t even send that ‘CATabulous’ email myself because even though I am a very famous cat, I have my limitations. Let’s take this email business for example; my lack of thumbs makes it hard for me to press that dreaded space bar. And so for this and a whole lot else, I have Alice de Almeida. My rescuer, feeder, PR manager and The Algonquin’s official Chief Cat Officer. So even though it is Valentine’s Day and I have cards to respond to and an Instagram story to update, I have agreed to sit down with Savannah, a journalist who is working on a profile on Alice. I was surprised by the request. Usually, journalists visit the hotel to get a chance to sit where their heroes did, at the Algonquin’s famous round table where journalists and writers such as Dorothy Parker, Harold Ross, Edna Ferber, and Alexander Woollcott met for lunch everyday in the early 20s. And if not for this, they come to write about me, The Algonquin’s world-famous cat. You see ‘Street cat against all odds makes it in the big city’ has a better ring to it than ‘That person who looks after the cat’. But Savannah wanted the latter story and so I decided to oblige because Alice is good to me.

She has been looking after me since I arrived here, a shabby orange tabby from the Long Island streets. Originally Alice came to the Algonquin as an Administrative Assistant. She was a couple days into the job when the general manager, and Hotel Impossible host, Anthony Melchiorri, told her she would have to answer the previous cat Matilda’s emails. Alice tells me she responded to Melchiorri with a simple ‘yay’. Yeah, that’s the whole story, I mean this is the hotel where Harold Ross spoke about starting the New Yorker, and Alice responds with, ‘yay’ … riveting material I tell you.

I – Hamlet VIII – on the other hand, have a story to tell. I grew up in a feral cat colony on the streets of Long Island. There were a lot of us on the streets, and so we were in constant competition for food and shelter. Avoiding humans – who saw our type as a growing problem and in need of elimination – was a big part of our day-today survival. I ran into some trouble with the humans once, they trapped and neutered me, and before setting me loose again, clipped my one ear. They said it was to show potential caretakers that I was neutered, but I know it was to make sure I would never forget who controlled me out there. After this, I knew I wanted a better life, and so I made sure to stay close to a place I later learned was called a pet shelter. These places seemed to have a lot of animals that were in control of the humans, and so I hung around learning this art. My determination and natural talent got me discovered pretty quickly after this. I was signed by the shelter and they later called Alice who was in search for the new Algonquin king. The rest is history.

I am hanging around the reception pushing against the legs of the hotel staff making sure I give them equal attention when Savannah walks into the hotel. She looks anxious, and out of place but lightens up quickly, clearly enchanted by the hotel lobby, and a large painting of the famous ‘Round Table’ members. Typical. Even though I can’t take full responsibility for the lobby, it is my territory. I even have a tree house right on the front desk. Alice felt we needed more vertical space so she got the Algonquin to agree to a specially designed tree house that replicates the lobby. The tree has three levels of perching space built around it, a marble house at the base lined with Algonquin carpeting. The house looks like it has been here since Billy was around. I have a sign right in front the marble entrance that reads, ‘shh, please do not disturb’ but of course people always do.

I jump onto the front desk to make my presence known. I was going to let my hotel staff do the preliminary introductions before I take over but Savannah reaches over the desk to put her big hand on my head to give it a quick rub. This really should shock me more, but humans are always breaking appropriate social boundaries. It is more the baby voices she uses to address me that make me cringe; I mean I wasn’t expecting a Dorothy Parker but I thought we could keep some literary repertoire. I make the decision to make this interview quick, but then Savannah asks the front desk for Alice and as I am about to interject to say I can take it from here Alice walks in and I realize Savannah has not even come here to speak to me.

Now they move to the dining area – a spot I know I am not allowed – so I sit on a lobby luggage cart keeping my eye on Alice to make sure she doesn’t go too far off the PR script. It’s Valentine's Day and Alice has dressed to theme, wearing a red blouse, a red flowery patterned scarf and long red nails in addition to her usual loose but professional looking black pants, blazer and square glasses that rest on the middle of her nose. I hear her tell Savannah, that she can tell it’s Valentine’s Day because someone actually held a door open for her this morning. God, this is going to go worse than I thought.

But to my shock Savannah seems to find Alice’s answers riveting, quickly scribbling down notes. Alice tells her how she has been working in the hotel industry all her life, and that she grew up in the Bronx. Straight out of school, Alice got her first hotel job. It was here that one of her managers told her that she is either going to love it or hate it and if she loves it, she has to realize that most hotel people have a little screw loose somewhere, “and it fit!” Alice says. I love my Alice, but I tend to agree about the screw loose thing, especially when she tries to make me sit before I take my treat.

Finally – clearly bored of each other – Alice and Savannah look up at me. Alice, thinking I am in search of a treat, comes towards me calling me king, hammy, ham or could it have been baba? The nicknames come often and are continuously changing. This is probably why people around here call her the crazy cat lady, this or maybe because she gets really angry when people don’t look after me properly when she isn’t around. I cannot fully be blamed for getting her this title though; she was definitely a crazy cat lady before my time. Alice has her own cats back home, three indoor and many feral garden cats, and she goes on about them like they are famous. I have never been to her house to see them, but the last cat Matilda III stayed there for a while when our palace was closed for renovations and she confirmed there was nothing special about these cats.

Finally while watching me spread myself across the front desk they get back to my story. After leaving the shelter with Alice, I arrived at the Algonquin to start my training. I was in line to take over from Matilda III. There have been three Matildas and eight Hamlets, including me, and of course the original Billy at the hotel. The first Hamlet was named after a loyal Algonquin guest and actor John Barrymore whose famous role was Shakespeare's Hamlet. Alice tells Savannah how I lived upstairs, while Matilda stayed a while longer to teach me the ropes. I think Alice is saying this to make Matilda look better now that she has passed, but let me be clear, Matilda did not teach me shit. I sat upstairs in the office while she lay around the lobby until one day they took her away and a trainer came in to give me the real training.

Although every Algonquin cat has been well known, Matilda III was said to be the most loved. She even had a book written about her. Of course, this changed when I came around. I was the first tabby cat from Long Island, and so I brought some real color to the legacy, and this made me even more beloved. I used to get two or three emails a day, but since my presence on social media, I get fewer because my fans can now communicate with me through other platforms. I ask Alice to take photos of me on the job, but she only has an old flip phone and therefore has to get the other staff to help her out, which is a little embarrassing. She does the uploading herself though and helps me with the captions. I don’t feel bad about making her caption my photos; she loves writing and this allows her to be creative. Some of the best pieces of literature were drafted in these walls, and I feel like Instagram captions like ‘Wait fur it’ and ‘Pawsing to take a nap’ should be ranked right up there with them.

I now have 13 599 Facebook followers and 3537 on Instagram. Honestly, I think I would have more, if Alice were more selective about the pictures she posts of me, and if she spent a little care selecting the right filters. I get gifts like stuffed teddy bears and portraits that all resemble me, as well as letters and postcards from around the world. My favorite gift has been the Bonito Flakes from a lovely man from Japan. Alice, being the sentimental one, liked the request we got from a grandmother asking me to contact her granddaughter on her birthday. I prefer to communicate through social media but oblige because Alice asked and she is the one who feeds me in the morning.

Savannah and Alice go sit back down as they speak about Alice’s many pets. “My mother liked cats, my father loved dogs, so I had Parakeets”, I hear Alice say for the thousandth time. This is her go-to story with hotel guests; she thinks that bit is hilarious. I know Alice prefers cats now though; she has had cats since 1992. Alice likes to say that dog people are the ‘Mickey Mouses’, and cat people are the ‘Bugs Bunnies’ of life because they are quirkier. I am not sure exactly what that means, but I do agree that cat people must be way more interesting.

I had to share the hotel with some show dogs and worse show dog people a couple of weeks ago. The dogs were competing at the Westminster Dog Show. They make up some of our regular guests each year, and all stay in the rooms with their humans. The first year the dogs came to stay, Alice made a big fuss about getting a dog in here beforehand to make sure I would play nice with the important guests. I couldn’t care less about the dogs though; it was their annoying owners who kept fussing around them that pissed me off. We get a lot of animals in here; the Algonquin is known for being pet-friendly. Just yesterday, Alice organized an Algonquin visit for my cat friend Pip the famous Beach Cat.

It’s tough to admit, but my popularity with guests and the attention I get from media around the world isn't only because of my charming and chill personality. The rejuvenated interest in the Algonquin cat legacy instead has a lot to do with Alice. If Savannah would pay me any attention this is the kind of thing I had practiced telling her for her profile on Alice. Pet journalist, author and my friend Sandy Robins, believes that even though the hotel has had a cat since the 1920s, they owe a lot to Alice for reviving the status of the Algonquin Cat. Sandy says that Alice recognized the marketing role a famous cat can play for the publicity of the hotel as well as realized the value of having a pet-friendly image, which appeals to the now growing crowd of animal lovers. Sandy sometimes forgets that I am the content and therefore the influencer in this duo but I do agree: Alice and I make a powerful team. I don’t like to deal with people in real life too often so I leave the business side to Alice while I focus on my online image. I would say I am up there with some of the big pet influencer names. So far we have Merrick Pet foods sponsoring us, but I am sure there are more sponsors in the works.

It’s no Buzzfeed but in 2015 – before my time – Forbes did a piece on Matilda III and valued her at an estimate of $1 Million worth of exposure for the hotel that year. It’s not all about Matilda though, Alice says after the children’s book, Hamlet: The Algonquin Cat by Leslie Martini, my social media presence and the events I host, I may even be worth more these days. I don’t get out of my own hotel much but Sandy says many hotels have realized the worth of animal mascots. Although I like to think of myself as one of a kind, I will acknowledge this is a trend growing in leaps and bounds.

Alice hasn’t only added value to the hotel; she’s also had a positive impact by promoting shelter animals and raising money for strays like me in the city. Because of my background, this is a very important issue to me, plus it doesn’t hurt to promote this kind of thing on my social media. Every year, Alice plans a birthday party for me, in the form of a pet fashion show to raise money for animal shelters in New York City.

The fashion show happens at the beginning of August each year to celebrate both the Matildas’ birthdays as well as mine. I tend to hang back by the lobby and watch from my tree house. I feel bad for well-known pet fashion designer Ada Nieves who designs an outfit for me each year. I can only bear to wear it for a couple of minutes, mostly just long enough for a photo op. Last year she designed a Shakespearean Hamlet coat for me, but I try to avoid the catwalk, especially when Alice starts to call all the cats MEWdels instead of models. The event raises about $10 000 each year, for 150 shelters in the New York area. This makes me proud; it is important to give back to my community, I will always have my little clipped ear to remind me of the streets, no matter how famous I become.

Although fame can sometimes be hard, I think it is especially hard on Alice when I am criticized. She says it is the hardest part of the job, dealing with negative emails and press. Alice is recounting an email I received a while ago, “you know, I agree, Hamlet is a little overweight, but you don’t need to tell me he is ... FAT.” She was really angry about that one. I wasn’t a fan either, but can we blame my follower, I have told Alice a million times not to post pictures of my bad angles. Alice also hates dealing with emails telling her that a hotel is no place for a cat to live, that it is cat abuse having me in the constant spotlight. I always laugh at this one, because clearly, these critics have never been to Long Island. I mean are they kidding, I live in Midtown Manhattan now, like hell I am going back.

I doubt my opinions will make it into Savannah’s piece though, because she and Alice are just yapping on about the time Alice moved to Brazil. They haven’t looked my way in a while, and I can see Savannah is getting ready to leave. I am about to lose my patience and then I hear Alice say that I -Hamlet VIII – will be her last cat because I deserve to be at the Algonquin for a long time. So maybe Alice has some interesting things to say after all.

Alice hopes to retire before I do, and I have to admit it will be hard to see her go. She was the one who chose me, took me out of the Bideawee Animal Shelter and brought me here. She found Matilda III too at the North Shore Animal League. She is our rescuer, our feeder, our PR manager, our Algonquin Cat Officer.