Training ted

Billie leaped

over Ted and stood up on her hind legs

A couple of weeks ago, I talked here about my new goal in life – to high-five a rabbit.

I’ve never been a particularly ambitious person, and I do realise that if this feat, high-fiving a rabbit, is going to mark the very pinnacle of my life achievements, nothing much has changed about me.

I’ve always been this way.

I was born in Amersham, Buckinghamshire, and after 50 years I’d only made it six miles down the road to High Wycombe . . . also in Buckinghamshire.

However, the rabbit I intended to train up in informal greetings was none other than my own lop-eared disaster bunny Ted, a rabbit with even less get-up-and-go than myself.

So – in its own low-bar way – my goal was very ambitious indeed.

For readers who missed that column, I’ve been reading up on rabbits lately, having realised I knew virtually nothing about them.

I made the stunning discovery that rabbits can be taught tricks, much in the same way dogs can be taught tricks, and also in the same way cats refuse to be.

The example given was rabbits “high-fiving in exchange for food treats”.

So, I set about my task and the results have been . . . well, predictable.

It took three days to even catch Ted awake, and when I did, he may as well have been asleep.

I followed the instructions carefully – hold the treat a few inches in front of and above your rabbit’s head, out of range of his mouth, but within range of a “standing front paw tap”.

However Ted effectively sabotaged these efforts by the simple tactic of refusing to look upwards.

Instead he sat staring steadfastly at his firmly grounded front paws, as if trying to understand what they were.

Even waving the treat tantalisingly in front of his nose had no effect – well, except for his live-in-partner-girl-rabbit Billie eventually jumping heavily on his head (something he didn’t seem to notice) and using the increased elevation