Every dog leaves the same way — too soon.
Man's Best Friend is a quiet portrait of Griffey: grainy home-movie mornings and backyard sprints, cut against the last still afternoons of an old dog asleep in a square of sunlight beside his bowl.
There's no narration and no script. Just the small, ordinary language of a life shared — a paw offered up, a head resting on a knee, a shape waiting in the open doorway. It's a film about the kind of love that never announces itself, and the goodbye that comes for it anyway.
"Griffey was put down a few months ago. Rest easy, old friend."