Claude Pomroy worked in the local fishplant for years, so when he was forced to find work outside the fishery, following the collapse of the Northern Cod, he thought himself lucky to land a job in Newfoundland, without having to move to the mainland.

His new job, as a travelling salesman, came with a price however. Claude would have to spend a lot of time on the road, five days a week and sometimes more. Still, Claude and his wife Dot were happy that they could continue to live in Newfoundland, and decided that with a few adjustments, the new arrangement wouldn't be a problem.

The first thing they decided, because Dot would be spending so much time at home alone with the youngsters, was that they'd need a good guard dog, so Claude set out to find the best guard dog available.

He drove to St. John's, found the place that had the ad in the paper advertising guard dogs, and walked inside. He explained to the salesperson what he wanted.

"I have just the dog for you," said the salesman, who dissappeared in the back room for a moment and returned with a tiny dog of about twelve pounds under his arm. "Here you are," he said. "His name is Killer."

"What the Hell is this?" asked Claude. "This is my dog's lunch, right?"

"Don't kid yourself," said the salesman. This is the best guard dog we have."

Claude laughed, "But its a friggin' Crackie!!! This dog couldn't beat its way out of a wet paper bag!!!"

"This dog," said the salesman, "has a black belt in Karate. Allow me to demonstrate."

He laid the dog down and pointed to a cardboard box. "Karate the box!!!" said the salesman. The dog reduced the box to shreads in seconds.

Claude was impressed, but remained skeptical. "Karate the chair!!!" said the salesman, as he pointed to a wooden rocking chair. In five seconds flat, the chair was nothing but a pile of splinters.

"Go ahead, give it a try," said the salesman.

Claude pointed at an old car wreck just outside the store, and said to the dog, "Karate the Car!!!"

In less than a minute all that remained of the car was a pile of twisted metal.

Claude bought the dog and brought it home. When he entered the house, Dot looked at him and said, "Whats that? Where's the guard dog?"

"This is Killer," he said, "and he's the best guard dog anywhere."

Dot threw a fit. "Are you nuts!?!? I send you for a guard dog and you come back with a friggin' Crackie!!! I was expecting a German Sheppard or a Doberman or a Pit Bull!!!! This dog couldn't protect us from a flea!!! You idiot!!!" Dot was fit to be tied.

"But, dear...." stammered Claude.

"Don't you dear me!!!" snapped Dot.

"But dear, this dog knows Karate," said Claude.

Dot snapped, "Karate my arse!!!"