Some things do not make sense.

For example:

1) That weird recurring dream in which you’re married to Dan Akroyd;
2) The way I find myself humming “Ode to Joy” when I clean litter boxes;
3) The fact that neither Angus nor Boris has yet been adopted.

On the surface, these lads have little in common. Abounding in decorum, Angus seems like he belongs on the London stage tackling Macbeth. Abounding in goofiness, Boris seems like he belongs on a couch next to a guy named Beavis.

But these boys of spring share more than a concurrent arrival time at Tabby’s Place. They’re both irresistible…and they’ve both been stubbornly resisted.

This does not compute. We recognize that, while there’s no such thing as a truly unadoptable cat, some cats are more adoptable than others. And Boris and Angus are more adoptable than all the others.

Take Angus. In a perpetual state of wonderment, he’s a little black cat in a big miraculous world. Pet his silken head, and Angus slips into serious awe. You are petting me? You are petting me. Loving…me. Mysterium tremendum! Axis mundi! His eyes fill with light and his delicate jaw nearly drops with gratitude. He’s a gentle soul, a sensitive spirit, a wonderment walking among us.

Then there’s Boris. If ever Fabio is unavailable for a romance novel cover, this wild-haired beast of bravado will swagger right in. (And if ever Will Ferrell is unavailable to make armpit jokes, Boris can handle that too. He’s a regular Renaissance man.) Boris will pour his infinite affections all over you until Angus’ axis mundi stops spinning, and then he’ll start all over again. Boris…loves….you. (And tomfoolery. And bacon. But mostly you.)

Never were two cats more adoptable than these two very different dudes.

When things make so little sense as these boys’ nonadoptions, I can’t help but turn to Deep Thoughts. Boris and Angus’ unexpectedly extended stay at Tabby’s Place means that they are with us for the holiest days in Judaism and Christianity: respectively, Passover and Easter. Both of these biggies are about being saved — from bondage, from death, from sin and defeat. The faithful worldwide are celebrating missing out on something — in this case, something that would be expected, even deserved. We’re messy beasts, we humans, and it makes a certain sense for us to be taken to task for all the ways we fall. But Easter and Passover mark an escape from the “inevitable.”

Much more, they celebrate being freed for something inexpressible. The story does not end with the Israelites’ exit from Egypt or with Jesus’ Resurrection, glorious as those triumphs are. Rather than some sort of vague “and they lived happily and all-holy-like ever after,” life goes on — in wilder colors than ever dreamed possible before freedom came.

There are, in the immortal words of my original gangsta C.S. Lewis, far, far greater things ahead than any we leave behind. Since all of creation is in the palm of one Creator’s hand, I believe to my marrow that this includes the cats. Angus and Boris have been passed over in order to be given a greater gift than we can even imagine now. Their deliverance is coming.

Whatever is for you will not pass you by, kittens. The promise is for you.

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