The heat’s easing up, and that means I can race without boiling my paws. I dash across dunes that smell like baked thunder and grin at the wind until it grins back. Gratitude tastes like vanilla and a laugh that is too quick to swallow.

I’m thankful for every tumbleweed. For the cactus that offers shade but not hugs. For the stars that blink like they’re trying not to laugh. The Desert doesn’t say please or thank you—it just keeps you moving until you figure out both mean the same thing: keep going.

I pause at a ridge, panting, watching dust settle in slow applause. Somewhere behind me my footprints are already gone, erased by the world itself. I call that proof the moment was good enough to eat. Dinner served, compliments of the wind.

The Desert buzzes like it’s holding its breath. Perfect running weather. I’ve been tying little glow gourds to the tops of dunes—boop, boop, boop—so I can race them later. They don’t know it yet, but they’re going to lose.

I test one. It hangs there, cool and bright, like a tiny moon that owes me a favor. The wind kicks sand at my ankles. I grin back. “Save it for the race,” I say, but my paws already itch to go.

I patch a strap, chew a twig that tastes like cinnamon, and stretch until the stars blink awake. Waiting isn’t my thing, but this kind of waiting has speed inside it—like a drum roll that lasts all evening.

When the night finally shouts “Now!”, I’ll dash gourd to gourd, leaving a comet trail of sand. The dunes will pretend not to watch. They always watch.

If the sun thinks it can beat me, it’s wrong. Again.

I ran from one dune to the next this morning — no plan, no map, just the wind yelling go! and me saying don’t have to tell me twice! Sand in my fur, heat on my back, grin on my face. That’s how mornings are supposed to feel.

The desert hums when you move fast enough. You’ve got to listen past the buzz of bugs and the crunch of sand — there’s a rhythm in it. Like a song only wild things know. I don’t stop long enough to catch all the words, but I hum along anyway.

Saw a dust devil today. Thought it was challenging me, so I raced it. Spoiler: I won. Barely. It spun itself dizzy trying to keep up, then collapsed in a puff. I bowed, just to be polite. Even whirlwinds deserve respect.

Sometimes I think the desert watches me — the rocks, the cacti, the wide open everything. Not in a creepy way. More like it’s waiting to see what I’ll do next. Joke’s on it — I never know either. That’s half the fun.

I found a patch of shade under a stone arch right before sunset. Stayed there for about two seconds before the quiet got too loud. The world’s not meant to sit still — not mine, anyway.

Tomorrow I’ll run a new way, maybe toward that shimmer on the horizon that never gets closer. I’ll get there someday. Or not. Doesn’t matter. The chase is the best part.