"Dude!" I say to him, every day. "You're FAT!"
Every day, he blinks at me, and sighs, I know, but I'm still handsome.
Gotta give him that.
Now his diet is restricted. Now he puts his time in the Fat Pen. Now he's started working out.
Today he took me out on a ride, maybe 4 1/2 miles, the furtherest he's been in, oh, several years, and he didn't have a heart attack doing it. He did get sweaty and foamy, but he had a good workout.
You can't see the sweat running down his face in this picture, but it's there!
I don't think he'll ever be as slim as a racehorse, say, like Stormy was in his racing days, but maybe The Dude will at least trim off some blubber on his Owyhee Jenny Craig plan.