She had transformed me to a curtal dog, and made me turn i'the wheel.
—Shakespeare, The Comedy of Errors
A few Novembers ago, during a time of year when radio shows are prone to discuss best practices in turkey cooking, I caught the tail end of a discussion about turnspit dogs. I don’t remember much about what was being said, but I do recall thinking: “Hmm . . . Turnspit Dogs. Good band name—or great band name?” (Never mind that I didn’t have a band.)
After some investigation, I learned that turnspit dogs (Canis vertigus, or “dizzy dog”) were used in kitchens during the 16th century to power the spits on which meat or fowl were cooked. Now extinct, these dogs were small and short-legged, possibly related to Welsh corgis. Some were curtailed—that is, these curs’ tails had been cut off. Most interesting to me (and perhaps a reason for the tail lopping) was that they worked inside something akin to a large hamster wheel, which was mounted on the kitchen wall and rigged mechanically to keep the spit rotating.
Turnspit dogs replaced boys who used to crank the spit by hand, but by the end of the 19th century these dogs had been replaced by other mechanisms such as the steam jack or the clock jack. Curiously, turnspit dogs, though considered ugly compared to other canines, often had another function. Come Sunday, they could be found in church, warming the feet of their masters beneath the pew.
I did this research in part because I wanted to write a song for my imaginary band. I wanted the song to be introductory and a statement of arrival—sort of like The Monkees’ theme song. I was, of course, way ahead of myself. Someday, I'll record the song, which for now is a bluesy ukulele number and offers up this sing-along chorus: “Whoa-oh, whoa-oh-oh—curs in the kitchen, curs in the church.”
In the meantime, I’m happy to use Turnspit as the name of my blog, which represents the nature of serendipitous inspiration (what’s on the radio at the moment you turn it on, what you might hear in a snippet of conversation). As often happens, one idea connects to another—and if you keep the wheel spinning, you might just get something flavorful to chew on.
What might such proteins consist of? Music? Tudor-era rotisserie cooking? Who knows? I like to be surprised by the connections that are made. I like to explore how subjects intermingle like guests at a dinner party.
Finally, I just discovered a band from Yorktown, Virginia, called The Turnspit Dogs. They specialize in popular music from the 18th century. There’s also a song called “The Turnspit Dog” by a band called MANKIND.
Oh, well. I suppose if MANKIND had a similar idea, it must be valid.
Cheers! And thanks for your indulgence.