No, this hilariously horrible 70's made-for-TV horror clinker isn't about a deadly demonically possessed dessert cake. Still, this exceptionally awful, yet undeniably amusing and thus enjoyable cathode ray refuse reaches a breathtaking apex of absolute, unremitting silliness and atrociousness that's quite tasty in a so-execrable-it's-downright-awesome sort of way. Richard Crenna, looking haggard and possibly inebriated, and Yvette Mimieux, who acts as if she never got over the brutal rape she endured in "Jackson County Jail," sluggishly portray a disgustingly nice and respectable suburbanite couple whose quaint, dull, sleepy small town existence gets ripped asunder when the cute German Shepard they take in as the family pet turns out to be some ancient lethal evil spirit. Pretty soon Mimieux and her two repellently cutesy kids Kim Richards and Ike Eisenmann (the psychic alien moppets from the Disney "Witch Mountain" pictures) are worshiping a crude crayon drawing of the nasty, ugly canine entity in the den. Boy, now doesn't that sound really scary and disturbing? Well, scary and disturbing this laughably ludicrous claptrap sure ain't, but it sure is funny, thanks to Curtis ("Night Tide") Harrington's hopelessly weak direction, cartoonish (not so) special effects, an almost painfully risible'n'ridiculous plot, and a game cast that struggles valiantly with the absurd story (besides the leads, both Martine Beswicke and R.G. Armstrong briefly pop up as members of a Satanic cult and Victor Jory has a nice cameo as a helpful Native American shaman). Favorite scene: the malicious Mephestophelion mutt puts the whammy on Crenna, practically forcing him to stick his hand into a wildly spinning lawnmower blade. While stuck-up snobby fright film fans may hold their noses at the perfectly putrid stench of this admittedly smelly schlock, devout TV trash lovers should deem this endearingly abominable offal the boob tube equivalent to Alpo.