One our rabbits was a hand-me-down, brought up without regular toe-trim-training-time. When the monthly Toenail Day rolls around she is always the first to dart away and hide in a corner. I will excerpt for you a part of the conversation I overheard today:
B: Cruel, vindictive woman. You shall pay!
FarmWife: Silly, helpless herbivore. Your weapons are useless against me.
B: I weigh but three pounds, but I am clawed in titanium rapiers.
FarmWife: Ha! No. I've just chopped them off.
B: The word "wrath" was invented for this moment.
FarmWife: Who's a cutesy-wootsie wittle bun-bun?
FarmWife is solely responsible for the maintenance of over two hundred claws, if you count hooves, dewclaws, and fingernails. That's assuming that her husband and pre-teen daughter trim their own claws, which I presume to be the case. For your edification and amusement, I shall proceed to rank us in order of trim-time behavior:
★★★★: Perfectly poised
★★★: Often obedient
★★: Frequently fussy
★: Ridiculously resistant
★★★★: Clover, Harriet, Townes, Fenway Bartholomule (yours truly), and the human children
★★★: Paisley (this is a big upgrade from his one-star past), Missy, Desmond
B.G.'s hoof trims are a full-force wrestling match involving ropes, bribes, and indelicate language. I would relay for you the comical dialog between B.G. and FarmWife, except that it is usually a simple matter of B.G. thinking a string of profanity and FarmWife saying, "easy, easy, easy, easy, easy" throughout a process that is not remotely easy at all.
They need to work on that.