The Space Between the Gate and the Sanctuary

My uncle Steve is a HVAC (heating and cooling) contractor. He once told me a story about a job he was called to do. He went to work at a house whose owner was at work. Having made arrangements with the homeowner, Steve knew that he needed to park in the alley and that he could go in the house through the back door, which could be unlocked by a key hidden beneath the door mat. Steve pulled up to the fenced-in back yard and, after gathering his tools, proceeded through the gate, and began walking across the large backyard to the house.
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Approximately ten feet into the sixty foot span, he heard something behind him. It sounded like a small bell or the rhythmic clanking of tags on the collar of a running dog. It was the latter. The dog was of formidable size and fierce looking– one which could easily remove the calf of its opponent with a quick bite followed by a tearing motion. Needless to say, my uncle quickened his pace considerably. He was running at his top speed, he estimated, burdened still by two handfuls of tools.
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The clanking tags closed in on him quickly. He was just halfway to the sanctuary of the house when he gave up and braced for the worst. He took a wrench in his hand and turned around to face his assailant. The dog, being quicker than Steve’s reflexes, quickly grasped Steve’s shin in its massive jaws. My uncle started flailing and beating the dog with his wrench when he noticed a curious twist to this drama. There was no pain. Was he numb? In shock? No – the dog had no teeth.
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(This story has been modified from the way it was originally told to me in order to increase the dramatic effect it would have on you, the audience.)