I have two cats. One is 12, the other is a year and a half. Two, I think, is a reasonable number. If you get to three, you're suddenly over the hump on the way to five, at which point you're officially a crazy cat lady, or well on the way to being one.
I went out on my deck yesterday, in the evening, to have a smoke and look at the ruins of my annuals. There was this young cat (5 or 6 months) on the deck, torn between being afraid of my cats (who were out with me) and afraid of not getting pets and chin rubs and ankle rubs. Guess which won out.
Then, the little hussy ran right inside my house when I opened the door to go inside - as if she owned the place. We hung out for a while. Then I figured she'd go home, and put her outside for the night. This morning .... there she was. And here she's been. I printed up some flyers to put near the neighbors' mailboxes, because she's way too healthy and affectionate to be feral or mistreated. When I pet her head, she stands up on her hind legs for as long as she can. Someone is probably missing her, and I can hope I can find them. If not, with her personality, I should be able to find her a good home.
And if I can't ... I am NOT adopting this damn cat, do you understand? I have two cats. That's my limit. TWO. (stop looking at me with that cute little face and those gorgeous eyes, dammit)