I Wrote a Book About Cats. It’s Not Getting Published.
by Laurie Ruettimann
I spent the past few months working on a book proposal called Don’t Get a Cat (But If You Do, Read This First).
The thesis was simple: Every cat deserves to be wanted. Every cat deserves a forever home. The less drama, the better.
I wrote the proposal as practical cat adoption advice for people thinking about getting a cat, or for people who already have one and are wondering what the hell they just signed up for. It was thirty years of fostering and rescue work distilled into something useful.
Yes, this was a book about cat adoption, cat rescue, and fostering. But it was also a book about self-leadership, individual accountability, financial planning, and emotional regulation written by someone who has spent thirty years doing the work and living with the consequences.
So, in my spare time, I built a full proposal. Each chapter was anchored to a specific cat and the lesson they forced me to learn.
There was Lucy who arrived in a shoebox during a once-in-a-lifetime flood, covered in fleas and entirely unbothered by the chaos. Jake came home with me after too many whiskey sours at my friend April’s wedding. Molly appeared in our yard and quietly became my husband’s second wife. Scrubby became a pee cat despite every behaviorist, medication, and webcam I threw at the problem. Emma was my angel baby boo boo who left me too soon. Roxy is the black cat I gave myself for my fortieth birthday but somehow became Ken’s best friend. And Spicy iss our COVID foster fail with a ton of tortitude who still believes we might stab her.
There was even a chapter called “Get That Cat: Why I Might Be Wrong.” Oh, and another focused on resources and tips that work in real life, not just online, pulled from years of rescue volunteering and fostering.
I wrote two full sample chapters. Then I rewrote them. Then I rewrote them again. I paid an friend to edit and sharpen the proposal, and I paid another friend to design a small logo to keep me motivated.
What publishers said
My literary agency reviewed it, and the feedback was clear.
- Memoirs are tough right now.
- Animal books are not reliable best sellers.
- Thirty years of hands-on experience without a veterinary degree or a national rescue title is not enough authority to justify the risk.
- Publishers believe this material competes with free content online, from TikToks to Instagram advice threads.
Fair enough. Not every project works. Not every swing connects. That’s not devastating. It’s just true.
What I’m taking from it
I’m proud that I wrote it. Each cat teaches a different lesson. The stories connect through consequence, not sentimentality. Love and failure sit next to each other without apology. And I’m also proud that I got an honest answer and actually listened to the feedback instead of chasing something the market wasn’t prepared to support.
The cat work will live somewhere else. Maybe a self-published book. Possibly a podcast. Definitely in my house, with actual cats.
What’s next
It’s 2026. It’s time to get back to my work as a speaker, writer, and coach. That’s still the job. That’s still where I belong.
If you want to work together this year, let’s talk. I suddenly have some free time on my hands, and I don’t want to get another cat!
Laurie, please let this content live somewhere! As someone who volunteers with a cat rescue, I’ve found it’s incredibly important information to share. I actually turned to one of your posts (years ago) on integrating a new cat into one’s home. VERY valuable information. Maybe very niche, but for those who need it, super valuable.