We took our dog on Easter Sunday to the Wegmans Good Dog Park at Onondaga Lake Park, so that he could socialize for the first time with other dogs.

An idle thought: Why does Wegmans sponsor a dog park? Why not Pet Depot? Or the Finger Lakes SPCA? Well, if Wegmans must sponsor an animal park, better it be a dog park than a potentially less successful venture, like a pig park, or a tuna park, or another pet which could quickly wind up in Aisle 6. Wegmans had considered a Good Cat Park, but there is no such thing as a Good Cat and, besides, you couldn't find a cat interested in getting off the couch to go to a park.

Good Dog Park is an 800 square foot fence-enclosed pet park in which owners can allow their dogs to run free, play on the equipment, and mingle with other dogs. It's a singles bar for dogs, a place to see and be seen, sniff and be sniffed, a happening club for dogs whose only prerequisite for admission is that they've had their shots, which is more than can be said for the singles bars I've been in. At the Good Dog Park, if you're good and lucky, you can go home with a few dog tag numbers.

Our dog would not be so lucky.

To impress the ladies, you need to be manly. Dogly. And it doesn't hurt to be a bit of a bad dog. Women are always attracted to the bad dogs.

Our dog only proved that veterinarians who say that neutering a dog will have no lasting effect, haven't been neutered themselves.

There is something ironic and wrong that you spend $900 to purchase a dog, then $300 to fix the dog. You wouldn't buy a $900 TV that needed fixing within the first year. Our next dog will come with a warranty.

Our next dog will also come with extra courage, so that even when they surgically remove some of his courage (how's that for a family newspaper euphemism?), he'll still have enough remaining to hold his own at a dog park.

But thanks to the vet, he had nothing left to hold Sunday.

From the moment we unleashed him inside the park, there were dozens of dogs which came over for a visit. Some were looking to make small talk, some wanted him to join them at the water trough, and others invited him to “go” over at the fire hydrant (not surprisingly, the female dogs always did this in a group).

But our dog ran away, freaked out by the interaction, a complete failure at fraternization. He ran away from the pack of well-wishers and hid at the back of the park.

We thought we had bought a purebred keeshond. Turns out, we had purchased an impure $900 scaredy-dog (where is that darn receipt?).

We had driven 45 minutes to the Onondaga Lake Park so that our dog could publicly embarrass our family. Not only were the other dogs pointing at him, other pet owners were pointing at us. We could hear the murmurs of “prissy pooch” and “must be leash-whipped” echo throughout the park. Good Dog Park had become Good God, Look At That One Park.

We were booed out of the park in shame, our heads down, our dysfunctional dog pulling us back to the car. My wife and I retraced our parental steps, wondering where we had went wrong. Was it too many treats? Not enough quality time? Too many video games?

And as my wife and I sat quietly in the front seat, not knowing whether to scold our dog or take him to a pet psychiatrist, we could only agree on one thing:

We would check online to see if Wegmans sponsored a Good Chicken Park.

Editor Mikel LeFort can be reached at 253-5311 ext. 230 or e-mail mikel.lefort@lee.net