check out our:
The old man came slowly into the room. He had his broom in his hand. And at his heels there walked a dragfooted sheep dog, gray of muzzle, and with pale, blind old eyes. The dog struggled lamely to the side of the room and lay down, grunting softly to himself and licking his grizzled, moth-eaten coat. The swamper watched him until he was settled. "I wasn't listenin'. I was jus' standin' in he shad a minute scratchin' my dog." (2.65)
Candy's relationship with his dog is a lot like George's relationship with Lennie: they both care for things that other people can't appreciate.
"She slang her pups last night," said Slim. "Nine of ‘em. I drowned four of ‘em right off. She couldn’t feed that many." (2.186)
Slim doesn't sentimentalize the natural world. He knows that the dog can't nurse nine puppies, so he kills five of them to save the others. There's no moral lesson here, unless it's that a man's "gotta," sometimes.
"Seems like Curley is cockier'n ever since he got married."
George grunted. "Maybe he's showin' off for his wife." (2.97-98)
You'd think that Curley would be able to stop showing off now that he's married—but instead it seems worse than ever. Is there no such thing as "settling down" with a woman? Or is it just this woman?