The story took place in Kingstown, now known as Dun Laoghaire, a coastal town south-east of Dublin. On Monday 14th September 1885, the following advert appeared in the classifieds on page 1, column 2 of The Irish Times (at that time the front page was the advertising page):

"Cats – Immediate. A gentleman returning to Auckland commissioned to import a number of Cats, offers 2s for grown cats, and 1s for kittens, to be brought in small baskets, which will be allowed for, to Booking Office, Carlisle Pier, between 6.30 and 7 o'clock p.m. this day (Monday) Inquire for Mr Weston."

Considering the number of kittens drowned each year, and adult cats abandoned, someone offering a shilling or two for a cat was bound to attract attention. Cats could be had free of charge from neighbours with unwanted kittens. In fact, there was a surfeit of them. For such a sum, owners were willing to sell their favourite while local urchins set out to steal any cat they could catch. Nobody stopped to think that everyone with access to a cat would be offering it for sale. Everyone seemed to think that Mr. Weston would purchase their particular cat or kitten. At the appointed time, hundreds of felines found themselves in boxes and baskets, and dozens of people assembled at the appointed place and time . . . and waited to sell their cats.

The story is perhaps best told through some of the newspaper articles published in the days after it was perpetrated.

THE EXODUS OF THE CATS The Irish Times, 15th September 1885
(From our Correspondent.) Kingstown, Monday Night.
In response to an advertisement from a gentleman which appeared this morning, to the effect that he would purchase grown cats at two shillings each and kittens at one shilling each, at the Carlisle Pier, this evening, between 6 and 7 o'clock, as he required the cats (which should be in baskets) for transmission to Auckland, New Zealand, a large number of women, girls, and boys assembled at the place directed, with all kinds of cats, young and old, in all kinds of hampers and covered baskets. Such a feline gathering was never before seen in Kingstown, nor such a cats' concert ever heard - not of the solo or duet the order, often to be heard by night on roofs of houses, but a full cat chorus, occasionally interrupted by fights between the bewildered occupants of the baskets. On one occasion a cat possessing a very high soprano voice contrived to escape, but only to jump into the harbour, and after a good swim she was rescued and replaced, dripping wet, in the basket from which she had escaped, much to the annoyance of her fellow-lodger, who strongly objected to a wet joint occupant, and, as a consequence, a royal fight ensued. The boys, or rather gamins, of the township, when they heard of cats being at a premium, and that a ready market was to be had for them at the Carlisle Pier, commenced at an early hour to steal cats, and to levy contributions for baskets to put them in. Some people said that the advertisement was a hoax and invented by some person bent on having a practical joke on a large scale at the expense of the poor cats and their owners. But this warning had no effect on the cat vendors who per present in force with Grimalkin in endless variety. As a matter of course a crowd collected to witness the unique sales and the purchases. The shore end of the Carlisle Pier presented a most animated sight as the time approached when the cat purchaser was expected to arrive on the scene. Every moment brought boys, girls, and women with baskets and bandboxes filled with cats. The crowd of vendors and of spectators now became so large that Inspector Doran and a party of police had to make their appearance for the purpose of keeping order amongst the throng, who began to get rather demonstrative when the time had passed when the gentleman from Auckland was to have arrived to open the cat fair. Time rolled on without the purchaser arriving, and it now began to dawn on the owners and the stealers of cats that the whole affair about Auckland and the purchase of the cats and kittens was a hoax, and perhaps a cruel one. The bearers of the countless baskets, boxes, old trunks, and even hat cases filled with cats were loud in their denunciations of the writer of the advertisement, and finally the police had considerable trouble in dispersing the crowd and in inducing the cat-sellers to return home with their feline burdens. The hoax was a clever one of its order, but by no means creditable to its promoters.

EXTRAORDINARY HOAX South Wales Echo, 15th September 1885
[. . .] A long wait followed, and then enquiries were made. To the great dismay of the owners of the cats, no tidings were to be had of the advertised, and at the ticket office and on board the mail steamer they were informed that no such person bad been booked, and the unfortunate cat vendors had to return downhearted by failure to dispose of their tabbies. [. . .] A lady came with a cat who had a litter of ten kittens. [. . .] A number of boys, hearing of the advertisement, commenced at an early hour to steal cats, and duly made their appearance to effect a sale with the advertiser.

[CATS! CATS! CATS!] Bristol Times and Mirror, 17th September 1885
Cats! Cats!! Cats!!! as it drew nearer the hour advertised for the transaction of business. There seemed no end to the stream of baskets of all shapes and conditions, of boxes, and of anxious faces, looking for "Mr. Weston." On the rail besides the Georgian Monument leaned three men unutterably enjoying themselves – every fresh cat brought up to the booking office eliciting ecstasies of audible mirth; and presently the ragged urchins and their unkempt, bareheaded sisters below were sent into a ferment of thrilling expectation by a shout from the rail, "Here he comes; that's the man in the white hat." An unfortunate individual in that prominent headgear was in a moment surrounded by basketfuls of cats. A mere stroller from the last train, who had vaguely sauntered into the arena to inquire the cause of the crowd, he was assailed by cries of "Buy mine, sir; it's the best in the lot! Four of the purtiest kittens not nine days old yet; buy them first – ye'll niver repent it." "Arrah! Get out wid yer old singed Tom, shure the gentleman knows what's what!" "Come on, Teddy, show her up till him." "Don't mind him, yer honor, he stole her from blind Betty Murphy." The bewildered, beset stranger vainly tried, to escape, but it was only when three policemen reached him, and shouted aloud, "Ah, he's not the man ye think, at all, at all!" that the disappointed crowd fell back in sullen detachments, only to rush forward as again came the eager cry from the rail, "Here he is this time." Another surging rush of girls, boys, and cats to a different point, round a young man, who took it in good part, looked into several baskets with a business gravity, even patted a cat's head forcibly presented by a tall boy over a small girl's shaggy yellow hair; and then – whether the owner believed the cat was safe in the buyer's hands, or it sprang unexpectedly from his own, I know not – but there was outcry end confusion, and a very handsome tabby, in leaps and bounds over the heads and shoulders of the juvenile crowd, made its way out, gained the highway, and rushed off with tail erect and bristling towards Dublin.. Simultaneously three other cats burst their bonds, and while their bereaved owners hurried bewailing hither and thither, the frightened animals careered out of sight, one leaping the wall seaward – and half a hundred people scrambled up to watch if it were making its own way to New Zealand by an unassisted passage. During the whole melee of the runaway cate, let it be stated, in justice to them, that though many dogs of all degrees were there looking on, in attendance on their various proprietors - ladies in particular - not one dog forgot his manners, not even when the cats ran under their noses, and among their legs; nor did they even remark by a single bark on the curious circumstance of so many of their legitimate antagonists being available for sport. Let it be stated, also, for the ease of mind of the Humane Society, that not a single cat appeared to be ill-treated by the very roughest boy there. When it struck seven and no Mr. Weston appeared, the hoaxed young people began to see they were indeed green inhabitants of the Emerald Isle. passengers for "the Ireland" to Holyhead began to arrive, not a little amazed by the crowded state of the Carlisle Pier at that hour, to be told on board by the officials, "We have been plagued by shoals of cats arriving all day, and not a soul would believe we had heard nothing from Mr. Weston, whoever he be, that hoaxed the poor souls that brought their cats to him." "Somebody was playing a trick on a sausage-maker called Weston, I suspect," suggested a passenger. Not till it grew dark did the crowd disperse, muttering or laughing, as the case appeared to them individually annoying or amusing. - An Eye Witness.

CATS FOR AUCKLAND. Weekly Irish Times, 19th September 1885
The following advertisement appeared in the Irish Times on Monday morning, prominent in what newspapers call the agony column [. . . ] The " harmless necessary cat," which Shakspere did homage to in the "Merchant of Venice," has in all ages been honoured. Even the ancient Egyptians, who were au exceedingly enlightened people, found practical and not unsportsmanlike duties for it. Since that time the breed has unquestionably degenerated and hates the very sight of water. But still its domestic value is acknowledged, and, like the lizard, may still be described as "the friend of man." Yet it must have been something of a revelation to the public that the common or garden kind was worth so much as two shillings per head for full grown and one shilling for kitten. It was startling. It was inspiring. What an opening fur enterprise! What a chance for gratifying cheaply and profitably the prejudices of a next door neighbour, who had se long been grumbling at the nightly performance of love's ritornella on the housetops hard by. The enthusiasm was catching. Every available cat was captured on Tuesday, certainly in Kingstown, perhaps also in Dublin. Cats were at a premium. We are surprised that there was hot a rand made upon the hospital Refuge recently established by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, whose philanthropy is probably at present overtaxed, and undoubtedly promises to be more prolific. But wherever they came from cats were collected, and stowed into the stipulated baskets, all in readiness fur the advent of "Mr. Weston" of Auckland. Our Kingstown correspondent tells the sequel. At the advertised hour Carlisle Pier saw an unwonted assemblage. There were women and girls and boys; there were hampers and creels and hat-boxes; and in each there was a cat, or a brace of cats, or a whole litter. It was a cat fair upon a scale hitherto unparalleled in the annals of the feline kingdom. Arrivals increased every moment, and excitement grew. It must have been truly edifying to notice the anxiety with which the rescue of that cat who foolishly fell into the harbour was attended. On ordinary occasions the mishap would have afforded a cruel and unmanly sport. Upon this occasion its fate interested the sympathies of a large crowd. Time passed, and "Mr. Weston," of Auckland, failed to put in an appearance. Yet with simple faith the people waited. The cats alone amongst the whole collection seem to have exhibited any sense, for they protested furiously. Finally the cat vendors came to the humiliating conclusion that they bad been hoaxed, and then dispersed in disappointed. The whole incident has its ridiculous side, and would be laughable were the idea of the hoax not so unworthy and cruel.

THE FAMOUS CAT HOAX. The Lady of the House, 14th June, 1913.
Last month I spoke of the second visit to Dublin of Madame de Navarro, then the famous actress, Mary Anderson, as having been fixed in my memory by the visit corresponding with the "never-to-be -forgotten Cat hoax "at Kingstown. Several correspondents of tenderer age, or less tenacious memory than I can claim, have enquired the meaning of my reference to the "Cat hoax." [. . . ] On Monday, 4th September, 1885, an advertisement appeared on the front page of the Irish Times setting forth that a gentleman who was about to leave for Auckland, New Zealand, desired to take with him a number of the domestic order of the feline species and would give two shillings each for cats and one shilling for kittens. They were to be brought that evening "in small baskets, which would be allowed for," to the Booking Office, at Carlisle Pier, Kingstown, between half-past six and seven o'clock, and intending vendors were to "inquire for Mr. Weston."

Obviously such an opportunity of turning an honest penny was not to be missed, and the cats of the Dublin Bay littoral had a lively time of it that day. Evening arrived and with it an extraordinarily unconventional scene on Carlisle Pier. Before seven o'clock there had gathered ai very considerable number of women and children with all kinds of pussies in baskets, hampers, creels, antique hat-cases and what not. Many of these had been cheerfully stolen for the occasion. An immense crowd assembled to see the sight and the police had to be requisitioned to keep order. It only required a military band to complete the harmony of the proceedings, but in its unavoidable absence an occasional lively incident relieved the tedium of waiting. A lady cat with a high soprano voice and the cantabile qualities of a Tetrazzini managed to escape from durance vile, and, fearing recapture, jumped into the harbour. A good two shillings, however, could not be allowed to disappear before the eyes of the world in this reckless way, and after a fine exhibition of natural natatory powers, pussy was rescued and placed, dripping wet, in the basket from which she had escaped. Its other feline occupant at once signified a violent disapproval of its "dem'd, moist unpleasant" bedfellow and a battle-royal ensued.

When seven o'clock struck and it was found that "Mr. Weston" wasn't going to materialise, the two young Blackrock scapegraces who had originated the hoax (they are still alive and hearty, I am glad to say) moved about among the intending cat-vendors and contrived to ruffle the placid waters by expressions of indignation at the disappointment caused and the crocodile assurances of sympathy with the disappointed. Their efforts proved so effectual that it took the police all their time to prevent a riot. Next day the Irish Times came out with a leader on the event, which it referred to as "a cat fair upon a scale hitherto unparalleled in the annals of the feline kingdom."