At one time I had three cats one of whom - but no-body was admitting who - caught a mole, decided it wasn't what they wanted and let it go in my bedroom in the early hours of the morning. I was woken by the sound of it zooming round the skirtingboard and trying to bury itself in the wooden flooring. I wondered what on earth it could be; it sounded a whole lot bigger than it was. The cats refused to catch it and sat on the bed watching me, in a state of undress, on all fours stalking the poor creature.
I have actually held one before now (rescued it from the road) - this was before I realised they could bite! I wasn't bitten but neither could I hold onto it; the strength in their front paws is amazing; they prise open your fingers and slide through; you might as well try to get a grip on water.