Boo Boo Cakes

So I'm sitting on the porch enjoying the remains of the day when a crazy lady walks up. She is walking heavily down the street. Her right foot is in a soft cast.
She sits down on the stoop. I have no idea who she is, but I'm in Seattle and this isn't my porch so I ask her a question.
"What happened to your leg?"
She picks at her nose distractedly. "I got a twisted ligament and the doctor put my foot in a cast. It kept bothering me and bothering me, and I got big blisters on my foot. Turns out I was allergic to the tape on the cast." She giggles. "Want to see a picture of my dog?"
She pulls out a crumpled photograph about 3 1/2" by 8". It is the size of photographs used in Christmas cards. The picture is of a dog sitting on a brown velvet beanbag. Two toys, each the size of her head, flank the dog. On the far left side of the photograph is an unmade bed. The carpet is the same shade of brown as the beanbag. The dog looks impishly up at the camera.
"Her name is Muffin, but I called her Boo Boo Cakes. We used this picture for our Christmas card."
Boo Boo Cakes. Christmas card. I look at Ed. He looks at me.
"Where is she?"
She picks her nose again. "I had to put her down."
"I'm sorry to hear that. How old was she?"
"She was seventeen. I had her for twelve years."
"Oh, so you got her when she was five?"
"No, I got her when she was three."
"But you had her for twelve years, and she died when she was seventeen."
"Right."
"She was my bestest friend. When I was sad and cried she would come and lick my tears."
"She always liked salty things. One time I made stir fry and overpoured the soy sauce. The sauce ran onto the floor and Boo Boo Cakes ran over and licked it up." The crazy lady wrinkles her nose and makes lapping noises. "'Boo Boo Cakes,' I said, 'that's too salty for you!'"
Man, she really likes to pick her nose.
"She even liked to lick up the stuff that ran from my nose when I had a cold." She makes more lapping noises and giggles again.
I look over at Ed, who is visibly getting queasy.
"So why did you call her Boo Boo Cakes?"
"It's what we used to call poo when I was a little kid. Every time my grandfather heard us swear he'd say 'What you just had in your mouth I wouldn't put in my hands.'"
Ah.
We talk for a few more minutes about why she doesn't like hippies and Valley girls.
Ed points to me. "JP over there is a hippie."
She looks at me closely. "He's not a hippie. Hippies have pony tails and say weird things like 'Peace, dude.'"
Ed nods his head vigorously. "No really, he is. Just on the inside."
She looks at me closely again. A wayward finger inches its way to a nostril.
"You're not a hippie, are you?"
I have to admit it. I am not a hippie.

On the stereo: Fiona Apple, "Extraordinary Machine"