Night-time bump and lumps

There's nothing quite like settling down between the covers after a full day. Your head rests comfortably on the pillow while frogs serenade you to.... sitting upright, wide-awake and reaching for the panic button.
No, not because of the frogs, but because of man's best friend - a border collie/alsation cross to be specific.
I have one of those; got it with the house - long story for another day. Anyhoo, said best friend of man is not known for her incessant barking (thank goodness), so when she is on alert, so am I.
Reluctantly shrugging off warm blankets I listen, running through the mental checklist of 'sounds I think a burglar might make'.
Footsteps... no
Glass smashing.... no
Baboon barks... no
Yelps from thief... no
Yet the dog carries on barking, and can now definitely be categorised not as 'there's a stranger on my yard I want to eat alive', but rather as 'help, help, i'm sure, there's something unusual outside'.
Yes, ask any dog owner; you soon learn your pooch's vocab so to speak.
Still hesitant I peak through all the windows first, trying to see the splattered entrails of a would-be trespasser. And thanks to an all too vivid imagination and too many crime-stories, I have visions of an armed assailant lurking on my steps waiting for me to throw the door open and rush out to save faithful doggy.
Yeah, right.
After more peeking, listening (a difficult task considering the dog is still giving excited yelp-barks) I edge the front door open to find the dog bouncing madly around a dark grey furball.
Concern for dog now turns into concern for poor furry and I rush downstairs to save the rabbit/kitten/bird/tribble. As I reach the bottom step the dog gives an almighty yelp and jumps away....the not-so-helpless furry has just scored a direct hit! Blood dripping form her jaw, the dog now stands cautiously to one side to watch me tackle this prime example of gremlinhood.
Turns out to be a rather large mole with a lifewish second to none.
Paralysing it in my spotlight (read tiny torch) I give it a once-over for any sign of trauma. It blinks at me in a slit-eyed yet satisfied manner, and I swore I saw it grin at me.
Mole 1, dog 0 ... I can almost hear it think.
Well, I was not about to trifle with such a determined survivor, so I grab the dog by the scruff intent on dragging her upstairs while giving the mole a getaway chance. I stepped forward, only to be yanked backward by a severely immobile dog. The look in her eye clearly states that she is not about to walk past that mad little killer; who knows what other tender bits it might take a bite at next.
By this time I am chilly customer; I take my night-time rest seriously, and running around outside in winter in my pyjamas is not my idea of a fun time. With more effort I manage to drag the dog around the far side of the mole; quite a site as the dog kept turning to face the mole while we moved. Finally reaching the safety of the stairs she dashes up, leaving me to firmly close the gate in the mole's still sniggering face.
And yes, I did check my pooch out as well. Bled like a champion from a facial wound, but managed to scarf down her doggy treats this morning. Somehow I think she'll live.
As the for the mole... didn't see it this morning. But next time I'm pulling at weeds I'll keep an ear out for that self-satisfied snigger.