Lemony Fresh

by Torry Martin

Dear B. Log,

Last year we had Sam’s birthday party at Miss Willow’s house. It started off really great but turned into a frenzied, four-footed, fur-filled fiasco. (You can read about it here.)

That’s why this year we decided to have Sam’s party right here at my house without any surprises.

Lemme tell ya, throwing parties is a lot more work than I thought. Thankfully, my buddy Bradford agreed to help get the house ready. The plan was to clean in the morning, but Bradford started feeling yucky after eating the blueberry pancakes I made.

I also made a whole pile of birthday pancakes for Sam (one pancake for every dog year, to be exact), but he didn’t even touch them. Odd . . .

I spent most of the day getting ready for the party by dusting the whole house with furniture polish. I wiped down everything from the surfboard coffee table to the swinging pleather sofa.

I even polished the roller skate feet of my dining table so it would glide better. Yep, the whole house had a nice sheen by the time I was through!

I had just finished cleaning when I heard the floor-bell ring. (I designed a floor-bell, which is literally a doorbell on the floor, to make it easier for Honor—Sam’s Chihuahua friend—to announce his arrival.)

Soon the house was filled with pups and people. It was sort of a class reunion, too, since most of Sam’s friends are from his petiquette school.

About five minutes into the party, things got really crazy. The dogs started licking everything in sight.

“What is wrong with them?” Miss Willow shouted above the commotion. “They won’t stop licking the furniture!”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I just polished everything, and now they’re messing it up!”

I guess all those years Bradford spent as a spy taught him a lot about detective work, because he quickly solved the mystery.

“Wooton,” Bradford held up a can he found under the sink, “is this what you used to polish the furniture?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Why?”

“This is butter-flavored cooking spray. I think the dogs rather like it.”

I walked to the cupboard to find the cooking spray I used to make pancakes this morning. But it wasn’t cooking spray at all—it was actually an almost identical-looking can of lemon-scented furniture polish.

Everything started to make sense. Bradford’s sore tummy, Sam refusing to eat his pancakes and a house full of dogs licking my furniture like a butter-flavored lollipop.

I was pretty embarrassed, but everyone had a good laugh.

If I learned anything (besides the importance of reading labels), it’s that we all have a purpose. We may dress alike, we may talk alike and we might even hang out in the same place. But we’re not interchangeable. We each have a specific purpose God created us to fulfill, just like cooking spray or furniture polish. And now I know my purpose is definitely not to throw parties!

This article first appeared in the October 2011 issue of Focus on the Family Clubhouse magazine. Copyright © 2011 by Torry Martin. Used by permission. Illustration © Gary Locke.