Peter, continued*

 

 Peter's been increasingly tired lately, Thursday was alarming, and Friday when hellhounds and I turned up after morning hurtle he was not making sense.  I got him to the doctor—why can't I be a black belt ninja something when I need to handle an almost-dead weight that is half again as much as I weigh—who said Peter had a high fever but couldn't find any obvious reason for it.  He scratched his head for a while and sent us home with major antibiotics, saying, if Peter's not 'significantly' ...