My beloved Willy was 21 years old when I had to put him to sleep back in 2013. About a year before his demise a sore appeared on his nose. It was neither a fungal nor bacterial skin infection, so the veterinarian concluded it was most likely cancer. He lived another year plus. It killed me to put him down, as he was the cutest, sweetest, gentlest cat. Up until his final weekend he was active and seemingly happy. One day, he peed on himself, had trouble standing, and stopped eating. It was time.