You go out of your way to give them a helping hand and they fuck it up. The voice-over dialogs between the prisoners and their visitors are characterized by images of care, homely joy, and love. The dog brings up another interesting issue. It may have barked its name, and I have no doubt it barked before it bit, but if we can't understand it, it's not there. The non-acknowledgment between the prisoner and his mother and our not understanding the dog when it barks lessens the moral overtones of the play, and makes me draw a larger, sadder conclusion.
Different languages are different ways of life, different modes of being.
Not a comforting thought. They could be you, or me, which is the same thing anyway.