And this is how he does it.
Even as I write this, Hoover is curled up next to me (he dearly loves to snuggle, which is just fine with me as almost anyone who has sat on a couch with me can attest) and snoring so loudly I need to use ASL to communicate with anyone in the room. I have never met a dog who sleeps as much as J. Edgar. After a full night's sleep, this dog slept the whole drive from Provo to Woodland Park (almost 9 hours), and then promptly went to sleep when we got home. Sure, he's got energy enough to go on long hikes and runs, but if you stop moving for more than two minutes and thirty-eight seconds, he's out.
This is somewhat embarrassing. You see, Hoover is half Rhodesian Ridgeback. According to Wikipedia, he should able to "corner and wear down a lion by taunting and goading it into confusion." Yes, that's right. A freaking lion. J. Edgar Hoover should be able to put a lion where he wants it and then wait for me to mosey up and shoot the thing if I feel so inclined. This is important. You realize that up to 700 people are attacked by lions each year, don't you? (And don't try and tell me I'm safe just because I'm in Colorado; I have vivid recollections of reading my friend's book about man-eating lions, and most of those were American house pets until the day they woke up and decided, "Gee, this would be a good day to see if I can rip off someone's scalp. Humans probably taste much better than this Meow Mix crap.") So as you can see, it's important to have an African Lion Dog around. If any of those nasty felines come around, Hoover should take care of things--in theory.
Does he look ready to taunt or goad anything?
Even if he were able to stay awake long enough to fulfill his lion-related duties, I'm not sure Hoover is up to it. Don't get me wrong, I admire him intensely. I have witnessed him leap over objects as tall as me from a standstill, I've been dragged across the floor when playing Tug o' War, and I've tried very hard and very unsuccessfully to outrun him. When he stays awake, this dog is a machine, and I have yet to see him matched in athleticism. Unfortunately, he is also the biggest coward I know.
Please understand--I appreciate cowardice. After all, a healthy dose of fear is probably all that keeps you from stomping up to a grizzly and trying to swing dance. Fear keeps you alive. But I'm supposed to be the one who's allowed to be cowardly, not him. I shouldn't have to escort him outside after 5pm because he's terrified of the dark woods.
On the other hand, at least the dark is a semi-reasonable fear. His others, however? Not so much. Hoover has shown an aversion to writing utensils, reflective surfaces, Michael Jackson, brooms, and body spray--among other things. As my mother and I watched General Conference on my laptop, Hoover took it upon himself to warn us that Elder Andersen was probably going to crawl out of the screen The Ring style and kill us. Did the dog actually try to protect us? Nope. Rather, he alternated between yelping and backing away in terror.
Ultimately, any lions out there are probably going to eat me with little opposition. Or they would, if they weren't busy spending their days the same way as Hoover.
Maybe I'm safe for now.
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