Unfortunately, for the last two years, he had languished in the garage of a townhouse during the day and slept crated at night. Buster was lucky to get two quick walks a day on a leash, no less. For a dog, such an existence was equal to solitary confinement in a maximum security prison.
The first month on our farm, Buster ran off all his extra weight and started to act like a normal dog. The former owner phoned us a couple of times, certain that we would be fed up with Buster’s obsessive compulsive habits. Honestly, most of his irritating traits vanished as he began living the normal life of a typical dog. Although we were all surprised by Buster’s quick transformation.
When Michael and I sense the flow of the Spirit through us as we intercede, our hands grow hot. (God has ‘blessed’ me with this sign of His presence for 4o years but it started happening to Michael right after we married. He says this is one of his main complaints about our marriage. )
As we prayed over the dog, Buster started panting; he was getting hot as well. My eyes sprang open, my eyebrows shot up and I looked at Michael. His eyebrows were raised even higher than mine. Michael chuckled,
“It’s getting hot, isn’t it Buster?”
“It’s okay boy. Just relax.”
My husband and I looked at each other and started to laugh. We could hardly contain our amusement. To use Pentecostal or Holy Roller terminology, our dog was slain in the Spirit.
So much for the theory that such behaviour is the result of mass hysteria or subconscious conditioning.
connecting with theology is a verb
joy of nine9 
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