Squishy or Not Squishy

We were sitted on red stools,

in the middle of the kitchen,

when a tiny crawling beast,

Scuttled right across the floor.

It was black and brown and grey,

with a little touch of red,

its head was quite unusual,

covered with a tad of fur.

“Will you step on it?” I asked

“No, I cannot, it is squishy”.

“It’s not squishy,” I deferred.

So, he kicked it out the door.

It went spinning on the ground,

hit the wall then passed out there.

For a while we thought it died,

Till it rose and sneaked away.