I protected my home.Security comes first when dealing with animals. And that’s why I thought shooting the cats in the garbage would be the right thing to do.
I had used peanut butter. And even with that, my house was secure. And against the advice of all animal lovers, I used the glue trap. And it worked.

What Do I Do When They Look at You
The mouse was looking to me for help. On the trap looking up at me, asking me to save it. Nobody has ever looked to me for help. When in my life have I ever been depended upon, other than the Torah reading at my Bar Mitzvah. And I messed that up.
Depending on me is a dumb idea. I can't help anybody. I'm useless. I did first aid training. Forgot everything. If you need CPR, I'll be standing there telling you, “Try harder.” Maybe I'll throw in a prayer. Blame you for not breathing right. Wish you good luck.

That look touched my soul. The mouse wanted love. The mouse wanted someone to care for it. And here I was, the only one who could care for it, the one who caused its pain.
In my defense. That's my house. I bought it. The mouse did not help with any of the payments. Not even electric. If anything, he ate the electric. The mouse was just taking advantage. Squatting in my house. Living off the fat of the land. Though, unlike my nephews, he did clean up every once in a while.

Now all the sudden I liked the mouse. I'd never seen the guy before. I'd only heard it. He wanted a relationship. I could use one of those.
I cared. The mouse was a cute little guy. Cute and scary as anything. I wanted the mouse in the house, even if I would never use that hallway. That could be his. I had formed a relationship over the months. I had come to look forward to hearing the little guy. I wanted to keep the mouse. I didn't want to let him go. Wanted to hold it. Pet it. Sleep with him. I have no girl in my life. 
We could hang out, watch an Amazon Prime Special, eat peanut butter together. Find a glue trap and eat a few centipedes. Whatever he wanted. I could tell you this. I didn’t want to lose him or hurt him. Until I saw him on the glue trap, I wanted to kill the thing. Execute it. Not now. Now I had a bond with that manipulative little guy.

YouTube Knows
I couldn't figure out what to do, so I went on YouTube. I figured an influencer would have some advice. A teenager hanging out in their bedroom should be able to coach me on this.
The teenager said to kill it. To quote, "You murder the thing. That's humane." And then they went on to say, "You used a glue trap. You're an evil human being."
Has morality come to letting mice take over your house?! Infestation?! That makes a moral human being?! And they continued, "People with a soul use mouse traps that don't work." Well. I did use mouse traps that don't work. Many of them. And now I have peanut butter all over my house.
Whoever came up with the peanut butter idea is a sick individual. They must've had too much in stock. Then they started with this whole "mice like peanut butter" campaign. It was Wegmans supermarket.

Being the kind humane person, I took the teenager's advice and I killed it. That's what our education system has created, a bunch of kids who think homicide is what moral people do.
I wanted to be kind about it. I loved my friend. And to kill something you love tears out a piece of your heart. So, I took my boot and whacked it. Started slamming my boot at that thing. Whipping the mouse against the wall. That's the humane thing to do. You take a bag, put the mouse in the bag and start banging the thing.
I figured boots were good for this. They're good for walking in snow and killing mice.
The humane thing had me feeling bad.
 
The YouTuber knew Halacha. The fact the teenager knew the Jewish laws of Tzar Baal Chayim amazed me. If you must kill an animal, it should be as quick and painless as possible. I figured the boot worked. I don’t know how successful I would’ve been at Shechting the mouse.

It was looking at me to save its life and I killed it. If we can't care for this living being, something is wrong with us as people. It wasn't like this was my neighbor. That guy is a jerk. I would not mind seeing that guy suffer. Get him a glue doormat for his front door.
I felt so bad. I had caused the mouse to suffer, and then I killed it. Was I a murderer?

​Murderers Feel Bad
I felt bad. And that made me feel better. If you commit homicide and you feel bad about it, you're a good person. In prison, they reduce your sentence for stuff like that.
And I did kill the mouse. So, that made me a good person. Truth be told, I’m kind of a Tzadik, a righteous man, for killing that animal. Nonetheless, I felt bad. With all the Halacha and proper practice of execution and use of the boot on my side, I felt bad. And mind you, I didn’t strangle the mouse. I’m not vengeful like that. I took the boot and stomped it.

The mourning period had begun. That mouse was on my mind for two weeks. Two weeks of bereavement. I couldn’t talk to people. I ate peanut butter. Anything to connect me to the soul of my friend I had taken from this world. I started walking barefoot. Sniffing glue. Started sweeping up the pretzel crumbs. Eulogized about walls and how my friend was able to see what was in walls. I began to care about animals. I swore I would never eat mice again. 
What gave me the right to take life? It was the boot.
I realized I had to do Teshuva. I had to repent. I had to be a better person. I gave Tzedakah. Charity was given to every animal project out there. I adopted a hamster. Figured I would get a mouse people like. Nobody kills hamsters. I supported PETA. I became vegetarian.
I started volunteering at the petting zoo. Figured, if they're locked up all is good. As long as there's no glue anywhere.

I was scared of the mouse. But I cared for the mouse. And to that, I was stuck feeling like a disgusting human being. Everything I had done in my life, all the good the bad the care for family in their times of need, was now encapsulated in the eyes of that mouse. And I killed it. I squandered it. I let it down. And I realized I had not done my job caring for others. And I messed up my Torah reading at my Bar Mitzvah.

That was a life that I took. Life with eyes. With feelings. I knew I had to become more caring of animals.
Then my sister-in-law invited me for dinner and put out an amazing brisket

Postscript
Death is death. To be part of that isn’t easy.
To this day, I can't get over what I did to the mouse. The creature of Gd that looked to me for help. It haunts me. I still feel bad. So, when you see me, know that you should be feeling bad for me. Not the mouse.
Now I know what serial killers must feel like. I’m speaking of compassion here. And when I see people, I’m more compassionate now. I think twice before trapping them, and setting up glue traps.
And I still have no idea how to do CPR.

Do I still use glue traps. They work. Would I kill a mouse again. I do like to have guests in my home. I can tell you this much. Knowing what I know now, I would never use a glue trap to catch deer.
Lesson: If you want to feel good, don’t use stuff that works, and do not worry about the cleanliness of your home. Since I took the life of my friend, I have not used a Swiffer.

It’s the window to the soul. The eyes. And now I care for any living being with eyes. A spider, I’ll kill the thing. A cockroach. I’ll squash that thing with my hands.
Yes. I’m still scared as hell of mice.

I didn't want to do it, but there was a mouse in my home. And that mouse changed my life.

Animals Scare Me
I'm not an animal person. I'm a weak human being. I will approach an animal once it's dead and eat it. But I will not pet it. And I feel bad about it. But these things scare me.
​Cats scare the living Beheyma out of me. Living in Israel, I didn't throw out my garbage for years. Those things would be waiting in there. Waiting for me to approach. They knew I was coming. Every time I threw out my trash, they’d jump at me. They'd come flying out of the bin.
Outside my apartment, coming home one night, there were fifty cars. Two cats were going at it and the others were watching the Felidae MMA Event. The cats were being entertained. One cat was taking bets. One cat was standing by the garbage, selling tickets. They called each other together to see the fight. These things communicate. And I couldn't get into my apartment that night.
I called the Israeli police and they just laughed. I thought they might come and arrest a few of them. I thought it was illegal for cats to sell tickets to fights. It turns out, that’s also legal in Israel.
Point is I didn't throw out trash for a very long time. And in America, there are racoons. Thanks to animals, I keep my house very dirty.
Animals conspire against me. Let me not get into the pigeon who's been attacking the air conditioner outside my room the past three years. Just there to wake me up and ruin my day. They know what's going on and they’re out to get me. And so are mice.
They all scare me. All I ever did was stay away from animals and eat them. No connection.

A Mouse in the House
I knew there was a mouse in the house. There was a pretzel on the floor and it was not there anymore. Somebody cleaned it up. It couldn't have been my nephews. In kindergarten, second and third grade, those kids haven't ever picked up a thing. They’ve drop stuff, but they’ve never picked anything up. Bad backs run in the family.
There was a mouse. And I didn't need a mouse gang organizing underworld mouse brawls in my house.

The Defenses
As a responsible adult, I set up defenses around the perimeter of my home. A strong security perimeter. I built up the internal defenses as well. They had already infiltrated. Mouse tactic is not some they teach you in the military. Apparently, the mouse threat is not a concern of the armed forces. The National Guard is not on rodent. Nor are the Israeli police.
I put up traps everywhere around the house, sprayed, barbed wired. My house had been infiltrated by something that was cleaning my floor. I knew something had to be done.
Barbed wire was up. Some of these mice are huge. I'm not taking any chances. I didn't want mice in the house. I definitely didn't want nephews in there. I set up a moat around the exterior. As I was digging, I found more animals. Stopped that project and now I have a messed-up patch of grass and a groundhog.
I sprayed the place with anything that could kill. The container had to look like something that brought death. I sprayed oven cleaner everywhere. Figured, that stuff has to be fatal. I touched it once and lost a finger. It's got to kill.
If you’re ever selling a kind of spray to kill animals, make sure the package has the animal dying. Words aren’t enough. The animal with no hope of life entices people to buy it. People like to see animals dying.
I went to Home Depot and got everything that looked like a mouse getting electrocuted. See a mouse getting shocked, I bought it. Any picture of a cat that looks like a serial killer, I bought the product. The scarier and more felonious the feline looks, the better. Cat with spiked hair, looks good to me. I put out those traps. Then I put up the cat pictures to scare the mice. Thought the mug shot of the cat might scare them out of the house. Let the mouse know there was a tyrant, and its name was Tomcat. I put up those Tomcat pictures, I was scared to walk around the house. That's a scary looking cat.
I figured. If cats scare me, they must frighten the Beheyma out of mice.
Defenses were up. I used every trap.
People said don't put out the glue traps. I asked them why. Answer. "Because they work. Mice don't like them and they work." Then they said something about the mouse suffers as it dies slowly. So, I put it out.
Put out the clip trap. That caught my finger.
Put out the maze trap where they go inside think they're having fun, and die. The maze trap didn't work. The mouse has to find the entrance to that thing. It's a maze. To get over the ramp into that thing, you've got to be a brilliant mouse looking for a fun activity. I got rid of the maze fun park trap. My goal wasn't to set up a rodent jungle gym. I got a Rubik's Cube instead. Gave the mouse another activity to keep him occupied. Take his mind off of eating my wall.
Got the shock trap, where they go through a mouse hallway and get zapped. I guess that incapacitates them for a few minutes, before they wake up and finish their burglary of my house.
​I prayed. When you go to battle, you pray. Just as Yaakov. I prayed and set up traps. I put out traps with peanut butter. Peanut butter was the gift. I went Biblical on the mice. I get my battle ideas from the Torah.
I used peanut butter on every trap. The barbed wire was smothered. This way you touch the barbed wire and your hands get sticky. Everybody said "use peanut butter." Peanut butter was on every trap and not one of those traps caught a mouse. 
 
Most people suggested the maze trap, as then you can carry the mouse out of your home, let it live and drop it in your neighbor’s yard. Give them the mouse problem. But I’m not that much of an animal activist.
I would’ve purchased the mouse edible block poison, but I didn’t need the mouse tripping all over my house. The peanut butter also didn’t spread well on the edible. Instead, I put out bread. Figured peanut butter on bread is excellent. I like that. Mice would like that too.
 
That was a good five days at Home Depot and the grocery store. Why the Wegmans grocery store sells mouse traps. They’re a loss leader for peanut butter.
My house was secured and ready. Traps out. I learned a lot. One thing I learned, mice don't like peanut butter. Maybe they're allergic to peanut butter. I don't know.
 
The Search
For months I heard the mouse running around the house. But I wasn't a hundred percent sure. I thought it was the new wood floor they put in, settling, pitter-pattering every night. Maybe a cockroach. The mouse was gaslighting me. These animals are smart. They know what they're doing.
Every day I checked the mouse traps, to make sure they didn’t work. And to make sure I didn’t have to pick up another jar of peanut butter. I was running out.
I didn't want the traps to work. If I catch the mouse, what then?!
 
The Mouse Was There
I'm walking up the stairs from the basement. I did laundry that night. I have to walk all the way down the stairs to put up a load, then I have to walk back up. I'm almost as scared to do laundry as I am to throw out garbage. I'm walking up the stairs and I see something pretty big on the glue trap. My soul fell. My heart dropped. My eyes got wet. It's been fifteen years since I've achieved anything. I went on a four day fishing trip. Caught nothing. 
Must've been the Shpritz I sprayed around the house, with the picture of a mouse going to hell on it.
It wasn't one of my nephews. It was the mouse. The glue trap caught it. I know because I saw it breathing. A creature of Gd that was not a spider. Nor was it one of my kin that doesn't help around the house.
I felt so bad. I didn’t want to kill it. I definitely didn’t want to see it suffering on the glue trap. I would’ve much rather put it in my neighbor’s house. And I cared about this mouse. What could I do? Could I drop off the glue trap with the mouse on it at my neighbor?

Now that the trap worked, my heart was broken. Yet, I felt like a champion. A champion who felt pain.
 
Postscript
It wasn’t the peanut butter. The mouse ate none of the peanut butter. The peanut butter was still there.
Is peanut butter inhumane? I can't tell you. 

To be honest. Those glue traps are great for catching spiders. Centipedes, ants, spiders. Mice eat those. Put centipedes on the mouse traps. Just a piece of advice.
 
Somebody got wind of the pictures I put up to scare the mouse. They thought I lost my pet. Ended up bringing me an actual tomcat. Now I have no idea how to get rid of the thing. There are no tomcat traps with scary looking mice on them. Now, I’m too scared to throw out garbage in my house.

Beryl Horowitz. A Holocaust survivor, never married, living alone in Brooklyn. He owned a little bookstore. You would think he would be depressed. But he wasn't married, so all was fine. He would sometimes do acts of kindness, stay later in shul and Daven with Kavanah, because he didn't have anybody hounding him, constantly asking "where were you." He was even able to eat deli sandwiches every night, as nobody cared about his health. Life was good. But he cared. Beryl was a very kind soul. He was even able to own a bookstore, because he didn't have a wife bothering him with this concept of "We Need Financial Stability."
It was a Jewish bookstore. You don't move to Brooklyn to open a boutique bookstore for Mennonites.

Beryl knew a rabbi that worked in a prison. Beryl wanted to do something kind. The rabbi was shocked. He'd never heard this from a congregant. Most questions addressed to the rabbi were, "How much can I save on the hall for the Bar Mitzvah?!" To quote the rabbi's response to Beryl's, "I can't pay you for your kindness." Beryl said, "I still want to do something nice." The rabbi suggested, "Going down to Florida is a nice thing to do during the winter. That's what most of my congregants do." Beryl told the rabbi, "I want people to know they're important. I want to do a true Chesed. A true act of kindness. People are lonely. I want to help them." The rabbi was in shock. People caring is not something the rabbi was used to. This purity of kindness made the rabbi uncomfortable. The greatest act of kindness he had witnessed till that moment was a community member paying their dues on time. 
The rabbi suggested Beryl send letters to inmates. The rabbi could've suggested sending letters to women, but the rabbi didn't think very much about Beryl's needs. He didn't even shop at Beryl's bookstore. He went to Eichler's for his Judaica. This is why the rabbi was suggesting Florida. To get Beryl to close his bookstore. At least to get Beryl out of town, so he could shop at Eichler's without feeling guilty. 
Beryl would've been married if the rabbi thought for a second about his love life.

Beryl started sending letters to inmates every Friday. Letters of encouragement. Stuff like, "It's not any better at Coney Island. I'm shvitzing here. The hot dogs aren't even Kosher."
One letter reached nineteen year old, David, in Florida. David was in for armed robbery. It might have been shoplifting. Not sure. I heard something about forgetting to ring up the tomatoes at the register. Maybe he had tomatoes in his red shopping cart, camouflaged, and then he was carrying a pocket knife. That stuff will get you locked up. 
David was planning to take his own life that morning, but the letter came in. I believe the letter came in the morning. Some say it came in the afternoon. He was planning to take his life that morning, but hadn't gotten to it yet. David was a procrastinator. He saw the paper, thought about the damage a paper cut can do, and remembered he was supposed to take his life. Instead of paper cutting himself, David opened the letter.
David was down. He was locked up. I feel that explaining why David might be down is important to the story. He was behind bars. Now you understand the psychology behind why David might have been down.
The letter read, "You matter. You are more than your worst mistake. Gd believes in you and so do I... Beryl Horowitz." Beryl signed it. I am not sure if it was with a "love" or a "sincerely" or a "thank you." I do know he signed it. I believe it was cursive.
There was no return address. Just a name. He didn't want to get robbed. He wanted the guy to know he cared. He didn't want to be a victim.
David broke down. He started crying. David started learning Torah, he got out of jail and married, and became a teacher. How crying leads to Torah learning, I am not sure. I do know that David wanted the Kosher meals. When you're locked up, that airplane packed Kosher food is a joy. It gives you a reason to live.
David was touched. Somebody cared about him.

Thirty years later, now a grandfather, David was in Brooklyn. He went into at tiny Brooklyn bookstore and a nameplate was on the counter. It read "Beryl Horowitz Owner." It could've read, "Beryl Horowitz Guy Who Likes To Shop Here." But Beryl owned the place.
Standing there in a moment of true connection and gratitude, David asked, "Are you Beryl Horowitz?" Beryl was already around ninety, and he had already been through communism, pogroms, the Holocaust, losing every job because of his name. Thinking he can't get fired now, he said, "Yes. I am Beryl Horowitz." 
David asked Beryl, "Did you ever send letters to inmates?" Beryl responded, "I did. I used to do it all the time. Every single Friday. Why?" Beryl was now worried he was going to be arrested for contraband.  
David pulls out a letter from his wallet. It was his electric bill. He forgot to pay it. He said, "Thank Gd. I have to go to the post office and pay this." Then, he pulls out another letter. A faded letter. Answering Beryl's question, "Because this letter saved my life."
Beryl, filled with tears. At this point, of course he cried. This was a moment. Watch a drama. This is when you cry. Beryl said, "All of these years, I just sent them. I didn't know if any of them made a difference."

Lessons of What Followed
Beryl never got a letter.
After that meeting, I do not believe that Beryl went to jail. He did think to go to jail for Shidduch reasons though. It worked for David.

For some reason, those moments of connection make you cry. Almost as much as a kidney stone.
Just the fact that somebody cared about him, helped him turn his life into one of meaning. One where he learned Torah and never enjoyed a decent cheeseburger again. One where he had to report to his wife where he was, every moment of every day. David was touched. All he needed was to hear he mattered.

Letters by hand are meaningful. They leave an impression. A high school kid heard this story, started writing a letter by hand and swore she would never do that again. She told her parents, "Nobody should have to hurt their hands that much to text a message." 

Torah allows one to see each moment as important. Even when locked up in jail or prison it's a chance to do Mitzvahs. A chance to help somebody with their contraband. Kal vChomer, even more so, when your family locks you up in a nursing home. We can learn from David to find that meaning in each moment, even in those places where it's hard to see how important we are. And we can learn from Beryl that letting those people know you love them may remind them how important they are, even if they don't have much money. Even if it doesn't look like you'll get a decent inheritance.

David made a lot more mistakes. Thanks to Beryl, he felt good about them. He started messing up crossword puzzles. He was fine, because he had that letter reminding him that Beryl and Gd believed in him. Unlike his parents who thought he was a Yutz.
Beryl then asked, "What was your worst mistake?" David said, "Getting married and having kids. I'm broke, and on a teacher's salary, having to support these people. I should rob a shop." When Beryl asked about getting locked up for armed robbery, David went on. "Wait. An even worse mistake was being a teacher. These kids nowadays need to be locked up." Then, in a moment of epiphany, David continued, "That letter changed my life. Mr. Horowitz... Thank you. Torah truly killed my plans. I was going to be a doctor." Maybe he didn't say that. I am not sure if that was their conversation. Quotes can be wrong sometimes.

I don't think David invited Beryl to Florida. Though, he did buy a book. A softcover, to save a bit of money.
If Beryl's rabbi would've shopped by him every once in a while, Beryl might have felt that having a bookstore was a good idea. Your actions are important. They do make a difference. Gd believes in you. Beryl needed to hear that too.
Is this not why we're all here in this world? To help each other. To be the most important to somebody? To let them know they matter. To remind them they make a difference. To ruin their good times the next time they're out drinking, thinking "Gd believes in me." Try taking down a few beers with that and the mortgage in the back of your mind. We all need to hear we matter, that we can make a difference, and somebody cares about us.

***Not sure if that's exactly the story word for word. To hear it in shorter, probably more correct form, check out realyaakovcohen on Instagram.