Symbolism

“I ought to of shot that dog myself, George. I shouldn’t ought to of let no stranger shoot my dog.”

He reached in his side pocket and brought out Carlson’s Luger; he snapped off the safety, and the hand and gun lay on the ground behind Lennie’s back.

Well—she got the eye.

And at his heels there walked a dragfooted sheep dog, gray of muzzle, and with pale, blind old eyes.

he wore high–heeled boots and spurs to prove he was not a laboring man.

“Carl’s right, Candy. That dog ain’t no good to himself. I wisht somebody’d shoot me if I got old an’ a cripple.”

Well, he seen this girl in a red dress. Dumb bastard like he is, he wants to touch ever'thing he likes. Just wants to feel it. So he reaches out to feel this red dress an' the girl lets out a squawk, and that gets Lennie all mixed up, and he holds on 'cause that's the only thing he can think to do.

You seen what they done to my dog tonight? They says he wasn't no good to himself nor nobody else. When they can me here I wisht somebody'd shoot me.

“Got no teeth,” he said. “He’s all stiff with rheumatism. He ain’t no good to you, Candy. An’ he ain’t no good to himself. Why’n’t you shoot him, Candy?”

Crooks had reduced himself to nothing. There was no personality, no ego—nothing to arouse either like or dislike.