Fotheringham was a Brit through and through, while his neighbor Mackintosh was a true Scot. Ever since they had settled down in adjacent houses they played an active game of keeping up with the Joneses. If one bought a new car, it was certain that within a week the other would have a new, slightly fancier car. If one re-painted the trim on his house, the other house would promptly be freshened up.
And on it went throughout the years: lawn ornaments, barbeques, shrubbery, boats, carpets, lamps – almost anything one could imagine would be purchased by one neighbor and promptly one-upped by the other.
Their mutual passion was hunting, and every spring and autumn they would spend days slogging through marshes and forests, fighting off mosquitoes, blackflies, and poison ivy, ever in pursuit of a better buck or a fatter string of ducks than the other one had bagged the previous year. Despite the competition, it was usually friendly, and more than once Fotheringham and Mackintosh went on their expiditions together.
One evening, Mackintosh received a telephone call from Foteringham.
The duck hunting season starts tomorrow, and I was wondering if youd be interested in joinin me for the first shoot of the year?
Fer certain Ill be there! replied the Scot. Lets start oot in the wee hours o the mornin, for I would like to be on the lake when the sun comes up.
At 5:00 the next morning the Englishman was on Mackintoshs doorstep. Together they went out to their favorite lake and waited for the sunrise. Fotheringham had brought along new dog – a rather nondescript spaniel. As the sun came up behind them, a flock of ducks flew over the water. Ill get this one, said Fotheringham, as he swung his Jeager over and under. He pulled the trigger, and a greenhead tumbled out of the flock and splased on to the surface of the lake.
Fotheringham looked down at his dog. All right, boy, go get it! Immediately the dog jumped out of the boat. In amazement, Mackintosh watched the dog as it ran on top of the water, retrieved the duck, and ran back across the surface of the lake. It leaped the gunwhale and deposited the duck at his masters feet, having not so much as got a hair on its chest wet.
Bursting with pride, Fotheringham asked, There! What do ya think of that?
Mackintosh looked at the dog, looked at Fotheringham, looked again at the dog, then looked up at the Englishman. After some thought, he said slowly, If ye want me opinion, I think ye got taken. I wouldna spend good money on a dog that dinna know how to swim!