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It is a
matter of considerable sadness to me that after just a few short
months of my having written a piece for the Siamese Cat Club
magazine about the amazing Mrs Keene, I now have the unenviable task
of writing an obituary for her, honoured though I am to have been
asked to do so.
I think that once she had attained the extraordinary age of 109,
many of us felt that Mrs Keene, unlike the rest of us mere mortals,
was somehow indestructible, that she would go on forever. Reality,
however, broke through as it is wont to do when, on a grey Sunday
morning on the last day of February 2010, Isobel died peacefully in
her sleep. She left a world which had changed profoundly from that
into which she had been born. During her amazingly long life time,
she had witnessed two World Wars, lived during the reigns of six
monarchs and the terms of office of twenty prime ministers. More
importantly for members of the Cat Fancy and certainly for Mrs Keene
herself, her death brings the end of an era, for she was part of the
Golden Age of seal point Siamese breeding, carrying on the breeding
traditions of Greta Hindley, Elsie Kent and Phyllis Holroyd and
producing, with cats such as Killdown Sultan, Killdown Vanguard and
Killdown Kerry, champion after champion throughout the sixties,
seventies and into the eighties. Make no mistake about it, Mrs
Keene’s cats were quite magnificent – typey, but not overly so, with
glorious powerful bodies, true Seal points, exquisite eye colour
and perfect ear placement.
On a personal level, always in high heels, immaculately dressed and
made up, Mrs Keene was charming, compassionate, level headed, brave
and possessed of extraordinary energy. I remember that once when I
was with her, my car broke down and we had to wait for several hours
in a pub car park for the AA to come. I expected she would become
irritated and fretful. She was, after all, in her late eighties at
the time. But not a bit of it. She remained far more cheerful and
stoical than I did. Again, years ago, I fled to her when I had
driven my car not once, but twice, into a Rolls Royce belonging to
my husband. I vowed I was never going back home. Cool as a cucumber,
Isobel welcomed me in and dealt with my understandably irate
husband.As her health and her eyesight began to fail over the past
few years, I would visit her every other Sunday, sit with her and
read out snippets from the Sunday Express. She relished scandal but
not just any old scandal - no pop stars or footballers for her- it
had to be about royalty or, at a pinch, politicians. She was a huge
fan of the Queen Mother and I suspect that she viewed her as
something of a role model although Isobel was herself far prettier,
with a good figure and sublime legs.I have known her for more than
half my life and I loved her.
May she rest in peace.
Geraldine Houser |
