It was the summer of 1957. My Dad was almost ready to turn eight years old. He lived in the backwoods of West Virginia, so with the exception of automobiles and a black and white television, life still closely resembled 1857 in some ways. I can hear his voice saying, "Come on, it wasn't that bad!"
There aren't many pictures of my Dad from that age, and the ones that exist are in rough shape. But the first time I saw a photograph of my Father from that age I immediately said, "You look exactly like Timmy from Lassie!"
As was the norm back in those days my family had rabbit hunting dogs, namely beagles. Now my Dad was not allowed to hunt until he was sixteen, but he did take care of the dogs as well as other duties on the farm. So even though he hadn't quite turned eight years old, the duty to build a doghouse for his dog Penny fell to him.
You have to remember the times. My Dad didn't have access to power tools. If he wanted to cut a 2X4 he had to cut it with a handsaw. If he wanted to hold the wood together he had to either drive a nail with a hammer, or use a screwdriver to run the screw through the wood. He didn't have a power drill to do the hard work.
My Grandfather had access to a lot of scrap wood from whatever carpentry project he was working on at the time (namely houses and bridges.) That meant my Dad didn't have to chop down a tree or anything like that. But when it came to the actual work, my Dad put it all together with old timey hand work.
Just for comparison, if you know a seven year old (going on eight,) ask what have they done lately? Does it involve playing Pokémon? Does it involve watching TV? Or have they performed any old time carpentry lately?
So Dad finished building the doghouse for Penny. He was proud of his hard work. But dogs and especially beagles are finicky creatures. Remember how Snoopy liked to sleep on top of his doghouse?