A Miracle on the First Night of Chanukah: How a Rabbit Saved a Family

It happened nearly 18 years ago, on the first night of Chanukah.

Hagit Hershtic-Ash was on her way to a family gathering at her husband’s parents' home, traveling with her children through stormy weather from Jerusalem to Elkana. Thank G-d, the ride went smoothly. When they returned home, she lit the first Chanukah candle and got ready for bed. Before going to sleep, she made sure that Cleo—the family’s pet rabbit—was safely in her cage.

Cleo was a gentle, beloved rabbit. Originally, Hagit hadn’t planned to keep her, but when she saw how much her young children loved feeding and caring for her, she changed her mind. Eventually, Hagit realized that the small cage wasn’t enough, so she cleared space on the apartment balcony and moved Cleo there.

But Hagit was careful not to leave Cleo out in the cold. On those freezing December nights, she would always bring the cage into the warm living room.

That night, about half an hour after lighting the menorah, Hagit brought Cleo in again. She debated whether to place a laundry basket over the cage to stop her from escaping—but she was exhausted and decided to skip it. She tucked her kids in bed, kissed them goodnight, and went to sleep.

And then something strange happened.

“In the middle of the night,” Hagit recalls, “I heard noises in the room and sat up in alarm. I was afraid it might be a burglar—after all, we lived on the ground floor. But then I listened more carefully and realized it was just Cleo, who had escaped the cage and was happily nibbling on something.”

The sound kept her from falling back asleep, so she got out of bed and tried to catch Cleo—but the rabbit behaved oddly. “She puffed herself up and made a strange growling sound. I couldn’t get near her. She ran from room to room, and I just gave up. I decided I’d catch her in the morning.”

Hagit left Cleo in her bedroom and went to check on her kids. In the first room, her two children were fast asleep.

But when she entered the second room, her heart stopped.

At the entrance was a pillow on fire. A lamp had fallen onto it, and it had started to burn. Smoke was filling the room. “I was in shock,” she said. “There were books on the floor, a carpet, a comforter, and other blankets. My children were sleeping at the far end of the room.”

She cried out in disbelief. “Hashem! If I hadn’t heard Cleo nibbling in my room, a terrible fire could have broken out.”

She quickly unplugged the lamp and stood there, stunned. Then she returned to the room and burst into tears, overcome with gratitude to Hashem for the miracle.

“I woke the kids. When they smelled the burned pillow, they were scared. I asked them to say the blessing: ‘Blessed is He who performed a miracle for me in this place,’ and my daughter and I recited Tehillim (Psalms) together until dawn.”

Looking back, Hagit knows in her heart that Cleo was more than just a pet that night—she was a messenger. “Even animals can be Hashem’s messengers,” she says. “She could have stayed in the kitchen all night, and I’d never have known what was happening in the children’s room. But Hashem sent her to make noise in my room—to wake me up at just the right time.”