Still Young and Pouncy

Bringing me presents of good will,
Usually vermin, but good will still,
He shares his toys then he steals my food,
And these little mischiefs serve to prove
That with each and every ounce he
Lives his life,
Still young and pouncy.

Creating stories for years to come,
Disrupting my sleep for his own fun,
Climbing the walls and sliding back down;
For crazy antics he wears the crown.
From his balls of vast amounts he
Takes his pick,
Still young and pouncy.

Tormenting the fish with batting paws,
Torment him back and out come the claws,
He yeowls at me and so I yell back
(An unlikely chorus, one might add).
But deep down I know, one day,
Despite the wildness he displays,
He'll pack it in,
No longer sing,
And he'll get old
...And not so pouncy.