I actually find the second part of that story more bizarre - I mean, a guy breaks into a home to add pornography to the computer?!? Talk about no rhyme nor reason.
Susan
I think he musta needed his fix of porn and logged on. Apparently there is a growing phenomena of porn downloaded onto cell phones. For the addicts, they can’t get too far from it…
Maybe he’s a failed hacker. Never quite got the hang of viruses so he has to infect people’s computers the hard way…
Outcall hacker. Nyuk…
A pack of angry Chihuahuas attacked a police officer who was escorting a teenager home following a traffic stop
Aw Lawdy!!! 
as a Chihuahua owner, I just find this to be plain ol’ wet-your-pants funny.
Besides, how could the reporter tell if they were angry? Chihuahuas are ALWAYS angry!!!
For three summers when I was in college I had a job reading electric meters for the local power company. One fine morning in July I turned off the sidewalk onto the driveway of a small frame house when, from off of the porch, two doglets came bounding after me. I decided to do battle with the larger of the two, a pekinese. While I was holding off the peke with the toe of my right boot the chihuahua performed a flanking manoevre and bit me on the left ankle through a pair of heavy jeans and work socks. Per protocol I called my foreman who filled out lots of papers and worried the dogs’ owner needlessly. Then I was treated and released by the local hospital and was back to work in two hours. Turns out I had made a wrong turn and I shouldn’t have been at that house for an hour or two. Who knows, what if…
The story reminds me of a movie I saw years (decades, actually) ago. The main characters were a detective and his sidekick, who was a dwarf. At one point the big guy gets beat up and, when he comes to, asks the dwarf why he didn’t do anything. The dwarf replies, “What was I supposed to do, punch him in the knee?”
Oh, give me a break, Susan. Like that’s never happened to you.
Dale
…a homeowner in Niles reported that an intruder broke into her home and added pornography to her computer.
The woman said she woke up and was startled to see a stranger typing away on her computer. The intruder fled, but left behind an altered screen saver that featured images of “erotic Indian art,” (Fremont detective Bill) Veteran said.
“Erotic Indian art” is not pornography, except maybe in the eye of a cop. Of course, that doesn’t make the whole incident any less wierd.
Regarding ill-mannered mini-dogs (Mini? Tyler? hmmm…) I had a paper route many moon ago, and there was one house which harbored a chihuahua (say, “chi hoo-ah hoo-ah”). The little bugger had a go at me once and every morning thereafter I would walk quietly up to the house and drop the paper on the porch with a loud THUMP. The dog would go yippy-ballistic. Every time. At ~5:30 AM. And I’d finish the rest of the route with a smile.
Ha.
Roger
There’s an episode of Gary Larson’s The Far Side cartoon that shows a pudgy, Larsonesque mailman entering the front door of his house.
You see his Larsonesque wife (rhinestone encrusted, butterfly shaped spectacles, etc.) sitting in the living room as he enters, with five or six dachshounds attached to various parts of him. He says, “Help me out here, Etta. I ran into a nest of weiner dogs over on Maple Street.”
Best wishes,
Jerry
A true story:
I was a postman in a country town at one time. Because my rout was so spread-out I rode a little honda 90 motorbike which was very popular with the dogs. The rout included a back-water gulley where there were a few old shacks. One of these got a lot of mail for some reason. There was no letterbox here - just a horizontal crack in one wall with the word “postman” scrawled underneath in black crayon - an arrow pointing to the crack. One day I was sitting on my bike, happily feeding the crack with a big bunch of letters when I felt something nudge my ankle. I looked down to see a very large, shaggy alsatian dog with evil red eyes. He had delicately encircled my ankle with his drooly toth-infested jaws and was glaring up at me meaningfully with one malevolent red eye. The message was clear “I could have this foot off, boot and all, in an instant Mr postman.” I carfully reached for the throttle and eased the bike away. I never got bit by that dog - I suppose he was satisfied by just making his point. Sometimes I wonder if the true inhabitant of that shack was a man at all - and why a dog would get so much mail.
That’s my kind of story.
There are two dogs in this village, one of them now deceased, from two different households who have been a sort of mystical presence here. Best friends, and both of them elderly, overweight Labrador retrievers, they used to roam the neighborhood, often together, and singly as well, as if it were their personal fiefdom.
No one ever minded their being loose, as they were friendly, exceptionally gentle animals.
I have two stories about them.
One day, I encountered Hershey (the brown one) crossing my yard. He approached with his usual tail wagging greeting, and I petted his nose. I went on to my destination, which was the post office 150 yards from my front door. Standing at the counter, I stroked my beard and wondered at a strong smell of rotten fish. After a moment’s thought, I remembered Hershey and continued to wonder about the fact that dogs like to perfume themselves with the most penetrating odors they can obtain. Residing near a large stream that is a tributary of the Salmon River, I understood immediately how Hershey had procured his fragrance. I went on in my ruminations to connect the day’s encounter with Hershey with something else that had happened recently, and I determined why a mouse would choose to sleep in one of my old shoes, in a nest he had constructed of dryer lint and my own whiskers.
One night, I had an argument with Arleen. In a state of prolonged upset, I decided to go for a walk and settle myself down. It was about 1:30 in the morning and a moonless, pitch black night. As I walked along the roadside about a quarter mile from my house, deep in thoughts that were a universe away from the time and place, I felt a cold wet something touch the palm of my right hand. “Hi, Frisky.” I said. I didn’t have to turn around or look down to know immediately that it was the other dog, who lived along that piece of road. He was SOOOOO glad to see me there in the middle of the night when there had been no people for several hours to socialize with. And so, a dog’s acceptance soothed away my anger, and I went home and made up with Arleen.
Frisky is older now, and his owner doesn’t let him roam any more. But I see them often walking together, with Frisky on leash, and he’s still always glad to see me.
Best wishes,
Jerry
Isn’t it amazing how so many magical stories concern dogs and other animals?
I once had a dog - his name was Spot MkII the Wonder Dog (but that’s another story). Now, I’m not realy a dog person, but then Spot-2 was a different kind of dog. On the face of it he was just a happy old black retriever with probably 10 other breeds thrown-in, but with all that he was probably the best friend I ever had.
It happened that after the incident when he ate half a neighbor’s cat (I’f he’d eaten the whole thing then no-one would be the wiser) for a while I tried to keep him penned in our yard. I suspected that he’d found a way out but had no proof. This one time, I had to get groceries from the shop down the road. As usual, I closed the gate on Spot-2 careful to keep him in and strode off down the road. After a short time I heard the ticker-tacker of dog feet scurrying behind me. Thinking “Oho I caught him!” I turned arround, ready to catch him and haul him back to the yard, but much to my consternation, no dog could be seen! Nothing near or far. So off I went again, thinking that I must be hearing things and then ticker-tacker-ticker-tacker - I turned again, and again; nothing. Now I was REALY beginning to have doubts! Off I started one more time and sure enough ticker-tacker-tic .. I stopped standing very still. I felt the back of my head - Is there something stuck in my hair? Nothing. I slowly turned to the right then quickly turned to the left. AHA! there was Spot Mk II the wonder dog. He had been watching my head and manouvering to keep my eyes off him. He was still for a moment not knowing what to expect - I gave him a great big smile - he barked and bounced and just about wagged his tail off. I reckonned that he’d earned his freedom. So off we went to the shop together with him bouncing and cavorting, barking at every dog cat and chicken and me smiling from ear to ear. We must have looked like a pair of lunatics, and maybe we were.
Daniel Pinkwater records some wonderful and hilarious dog stories, which are broadcast on National Public Radio. Each is typically about three minutes long. They’re archived on the NPR website. If anyone would actually listen, I’ll be happy to pick a couple of favorites and post links.
Best wishes,
Jerry
Please do! I love dog stories - and other animal stories too 
You can access a good number of Pinkwater’s dog bits from here:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4555812
You’ll notice that there are related links on each page you browse to from here.
Daniel Pinkwater is my hero. He writes children’s books, reviews children’s books and writes little essays about all sorts of things.
He has a radio show called Chinwag Theater, that’s quite wonderful.
Best wishes,
Jerry
Hi Jerry, got the link - working on getting the audio to work now
Many thanks