Open Letter to My Felines

Dear Cats:

Yes, I'm talking to you. Please stop eating the grass long enough to listen.
This is important.
I love you. Really, I adore you. I couldn't be happier to have you around, and when you hurl yourselves into my legs and lap at night, my heart just bursts. But PLEASE.
Please, a few ground rules.

1. There shall be no "presents" given to Dad or I.
2. If you disregard rule #1, please make sure the present isn't alive.
3. If you disregard rule #s 1 & 2, please kill the present shortly after bringing it into the house, or leave me alone when I'm trying to save the "present" with the dishtowel.
4. When you eat the grass, please remain outside long enough to vomit it.
5. I don't speak Meow. Please stop caterwauling at me to make your point. Sign language or walking to the direction of the issue is advised. If issue is a dead present, please walk directly to it. (preferably the first day the present is dead. Dad and I don't know where to look, and we'd rather not discover by smell.)
6. I particularly don't speak Meow first thing in the morning. In fact, I don't typically speak first thing in the morning, so just stay the hell out of my way. (Meowing at the food bowl is an exception, should I have forgotten to fill it the night before.)
7. Please don't snap at me when I pick you off of my lap so I can get up and use the restroom. You've been sitting there for hours and I have to go.

If you disregard all of the above rules, you had better be on your cutest behavior, because we can only take so much.

Love, Mom