1. Luck
J. Edgar Hoover doesn't believe in luck. Well, not strictly.
Spit in one hand, wish in the other - then see which fills up faster. Whoever said that, was right.
Not that most people believe it. Pennies flung into fountains or plucked from the sidewalk. Rabbits' feet. Four leaf clovers.
But he, personally, doesn't.
When he goes to races - which he often does - and bets - which he frequently does - he always calculates the odds, then double-checks, and then, only then, places his bet.
Luck depends on your perspective. And it's fickle. There are a thousand and one things that can prevent your horse from winning. The heavens could open in concert with the in gates. A horse could stumble and cause a pile up. Things that nobody sitting in the stands can control.
Clyde only bets on a sure thing, when he bets at all. He wonders sometimes, if that's why he took the job - and why he stays.
His mother doesn't approve of betting period. She sometimes infers that he's becoming dependent on it. But it's not an addiction; it's merely a pastime, and a much needed break from work. There's nothing at all strange about it, just as there's nothing unnatural about his relationship with Clyde. He's just lucky to have him as a friend.
That's all.