Holden: 1; Mark: 0

Anyone who believes dogs don't think and plan has never owned one.

As usual when there is food on the kitchen counters, while we were eating dinner tonight, we put Holden, our dog, into his crate. We do this because he is not trustworthy when there is food, particularly bread, within his reach--a reach that extends to anywhere on the kitchen island. When I say Holden is not trustworthy, I am not exaggerating; this dog ate an entire large loaf of challah bread in under two minutes and half a pizza in less time than that.

When we finished eating and were cleaning up, I let him out and took him outside to do business. (Yes, that kind of business.) Now, Holden knows that I will demand he go out, but he also loves the dishwasher loading process, because during it he licks plates until the dishwasher is full. (I'm not a fan of this special privilege, but it's been a treat of his since he was young, so now, like so many strange practices in our household, it is an unbreakable tradition.)

So, he ran to the door, ran outside, squeezed out two drops, and ran back to the door, the picture of an obedient hound.

Fifteen minutes and some plate licking later, he was standing in front of me, tail wagging, big brown eyes beseeching me, desperate to go out. I didn't believe him at first, but he was persistent, so I got up and took him outside again.

This time, he really took care of business.

He completely worked me the first time.

Score one for Holden.