My mom gave me this book one summer when I was about 8 years old. I think she picked it up at a garage sale or something solely because it was a book about cats - my two favorite things.
That summer, for me, was the summer of Pyewacket. I read and reread the book until I could recite parts of it from memory. I became certain that my cat could talk and spent hours trying to coax words out of him. When I wasn't doing that, I was pretending that I was a cat. In the end, I'm sure my mother regretted ever laying eyes on the book. I couldn't help it, though. Pyewacket was my hero.
I'm giving the book 4 stars because I haven't reread since I accidentally left my copy out in the rain one day about 20 years ago. I can't say if it would still have the same magic now that it did then, but I know that for me the memories it created are worth it.
So, if you've got a young person in your life who likes reading and cats, and you can find a copy of this book, buy it for them. You may have to put up with caterwauling and demands for milk out of a bowl, but is that really much worse than the sounds of Sponge Bob?