I didn’t mean to be sick! I tried hard not too, but with the rockin’ and rollin’ – twists and turns, I couldn’t help it.
Please take me next.
I don’t want to be the last dog in the van.

I know I look a frightful mess, but I’ve been sleeping rough you see. My coats all matted and one eye’s closed up.
Please take me next.
I don’t want to be the last dog in the van.

I can hear you talking, saying ‘we’ll leave him till the end, looks a bit of a brute; it’ll take two of us I expect.
Please take me next.
I don’t want to be the last dog in the van.

I’m not a brute! I’m big but soft in nature. It was the kick in the face that misshapen my teeth.
Please take me next.
I don’t want to be the last dog in the van.

It’s not really growling with anger, it’s communicating my fear. I’ve been cruelly treated, terribly.
Please take me next.
I don’t want to be the last dog in the van.

They told me this would happen, the other strays on the street.
Gave me some advice, ‘don’t put up a fight.
Ask to be taken next,
You don’t want to be the last dog in the van.’

You keep coming and going and ignoring me! Dogs are leaving one by one. Just me, and little scruffy left.
Please take me next.
I don’t want to be the last dog in the van.

What’s this? Scruffy is snapping and snarling! Not like him. ‘Alright fella, calm down, we’ll leave you a while.
You can’t be next.
You’ll have to be the last dog in the van.

A hand frees the catch, quietly reaches in, so gentle I lick it. ‘Are you okay with him?’ ‘Yes I’m fine; he’s just a teddy bear.’
I’m going to be next!
I won’t be the last dog in the van.

Scruffy winks as I pass his cage, with a knowing doggy look. He did it for me! He knew it was my first time.
He’s used to being next.
And not the last dog in the van.