A RAMBLING NARRATIVE FROM THE CHUCK CHRONICLES Friday February 7, 2003 Since I had today off from work I decided to take the Chuckster to dog beach in Huntington Beach. The event started off on a bad note, as the first dog Chuck encountered was a large poodle that felt it necessary to be exceedingly aggressive towards Chuck. Not surprising were the owners of this dog who did absolutely nothing to curtail this behavior until I approached this obnoxious animal with the intent to set a new NFL field goal record. They finally chose to act with a semi-strict bad dog routine.  Yeah, buddy, thanks for all the help. From this moment on Chuck decided to stay close by my side. Not being on the leash was a rare pleasure as we walked down the beach and yes Chuck was able to meet a few new friends. Kelly told me that Chuck’s favorite hobby is to chase birds, but I began to doubt this as Chuck ignored bird after bird - or perhaps it was that Chuck’s keenly honed predatory senses were taking the day off as well. Suddenly all hell broke loose as Chuck finally noticed a small bird at the water’s edge and broke into a blistering pursuit (3 MPH). As surprising as it may sound the bird somehow detected the stalking killer and flew away. Stunned that the bird thwarted her hunting skills, Chuck was left to simply sniff the sand where the bird had been. This is where I introduce you to the antagonist of our little tale, King Neptune, who upon witnessing this drama of nature decides to display his sense of humor by sending forth a foaming two-inch torrent of ocean water, catching Chuck off guard. Now I can only assume that a normal dog would instinctively remove itself from the water or decide that this is a new and fascinating playtime medium. Chuck, however, is not normal. Upon the arrival of the water Chuck instantly decides that she does not like the water and stands knee deep in it contemplating how best to remove herself from this unwanted predicament. The water now flows back out to sea just as Chuck decides to run towards me, but the current  takes hold, pushing Chuck back a few inches. This same scenario is repeated a few more times until a thunderous eight inch breaker comes crashing in, completely enveloping the mutt (Chuck is now REALLY not having any fun). I look around and realize that David Hasselhoff and the rest of the Baywatch crew will not be coming to Chuck’s rescue (apparently they were working on their winter tans). Yours truly is now forced to plunge into the icy, turbulent, ankle-deep waters of the eastern Pacific. Before this situation gets any more dramatic or comical I quickly grab Chuck and fling her out of the water and onto the sand. I turned around to see a quivering sugar cookie with a facial expression that says, “Something bad had happened to me and I don’t know who to hate for it.â€� Wet dogs don’t like to walk under their own power and I was forced to carry a shivering sand magnet back to the car. The lessons learned from this expedition are: more towels in the car; straws and spitwads for undisciplined dogs that like to bite; and most importantly waterwings for Chuck.