The book I am eager to find is about elephants and titled, I thought, Where the Elephants Go. I was around 8 to 10 when I read it, so 1942-1944 would be the date.

The book lovingly described an older elephant going out alone into the forest to die, with the herd respecting that but coming to mourn when death occurred.

I’d be so pleased to find it again. At our age my husband and I are being encouraged to move into this and that retirement community – all with Meadow Something in their names. They remind me of Where the Elephants Go.