It’s a Dog’s Life

by Sally Hendry…

Imagine being able to take a peek into a eighteenth century kitchen – and no ordinary one at that. Research into the history of the Lopes Arms for a planned book on Westbury inns turned up an unusual treat for us – an inventory of the inn in 1776 when it was then known as the Abingdon Arms after Lord Abingdon who owned the manor of Westbury.

We might have expected to see pots and pans and trivets and fire irons. But a more unusual item popped up on the kitchen list – a dog wheel and chain!

Those of us who have visited the George in Lacock may have actually seen such a contraption. It used to feature a a wheel linked by chains to a spit over an open fire. The movement of the wheel turned the spit so joints of meet cooked evenly.

turnspit dog

And that’s where the dog comes in; its job was to turn the wheel – hamster fashion! A particular breed of dog was used for this task which was so tiring that it needed a pair of dogs working in shifts.

Apparently, the dogs were quite able to appreciate the timing of their shift, and, if not relieved from their toils at the proper hour, would leap out of the wheel and force their companions to take their place.

The dog breed in question is now extinct but has been variously described as being short-legged and long-bodied, probably looking a cross between a daschund and a Welsh corgi, while some described them as being similar to a spaniel.

They were generally a dusky grey spotted with black. Known as turnspit dogs, they were bred specially for this task but some had another occupation – accompanying their owners to church! There they were used as footwarmers during interminably long sermons.

Poor turnspit dogs!

With advancements in kitchen technology, the need for turnspit dogs declined. Over time, they were no longer bred for their specific function and their numbers dwindled, eventually leading to their extinction. It is said that Queen Victoria kept retired turnspit dogs as pets.

So next time you are strolling past the Lopes Arms, spare a thought for the memory of that little hardworking hound!