THAT DOG WON'T HUNT, BUT HE WILL DO BUSH'S PR.

Byline: Jillian O'Connor

THERE'S no need for a president to attend press conferences and answer hard questions about icky conflicts when he can grab photo ops with a good-looking Scottie.

The pair cut a dashing, faintly British pastoral picture - Bush in his long black overcoat, Barney the stolid Scottish terrier in his closely tailored, sleek black fur on the gleaming green White House lawn.

And thus Bush participates in the burgeoning presidential art of hiding behind the dog.

It's no secret that, as a nation, we've developed a borderline-sick attraction to pups.

This tradition has served past leaders well - namely former President Bill Clinton, who got the breed of the hour, the chocolate Lab, in December 1997, shortly before the Lewinsky scandal broke.

Irrepressible puppy Buddy seemed to be the perfect metaphor for the image that would most suit the prez at that particular moment - bouncing; rambunctious; unable to curb adorable, earthy impulse; and occasionally latching on to the wrong leg.

Bush got his trendy little terrier just before his term started, in December 2000, providing him with ample opportunity to distract the public with a cute little puppy dog with tiny pointy ears.

His stalwart ground sniffer sends a vastly different message than Clinton's: He's a small but impossibly sturdy purebred, who may seem insignificant but will likely hold his own against foes thrice his size. Which, of course, could hardly be a necessity for the owner to do, since we as a nation have no foes even twice or equal to our size.

But you can bet a plaid bow that a Scottie would be gung-ho to storm Iraq, too.

Another trouble with the dogs is that they don't tend to come if you call them, go through the world like they have blinders on, see only what they choose to see and hear only when they choose to tune in - which is seldom.

Some say people look like their dogs. The current president acts like his dog.

``The Scottish terrier is absolutely dependable and loyal, but may sometimes appear aloof and independent,'' says the Web site of the American Kennel Club. ``He is not a docile pet. ... He should exude ruggedness and power, living up to his nickname, the 'Diehard.'''

A Scottie is akin to a hunkered-down hermit, sticking to his guns and standing his ground, no matter what anyone says. Certainly the breed's stubborn nature is a little but off-putting, and few would nickname the bearded pup the leader of the canine world, despite its like-natured owner's climb to success.

Some seem to think the floppy-eared Bush is quite cute, and Barney is as well - though the Scottie, to our knowledge, has never held elective office based on being cuddlier than Al Gore.

With their independent spirit, though, these are no dogs to be cradled.

But that kind of hands-on attention to a creature like the small, indignant Scottie gives Bush his requisite dash of homeyness: Why, I'm not a president hellbent on war, but a man in his country overcoat, going for a romp with a wee Scottish terrier on a misty spring morn as I evoke images of Siegfried and Tristan on the BBC production of ``All Creatures Great and Small.'' Such a line, of course, would have to be written for and explained to the PBS-free president.

When Bush makes the hefty, feisty terrier wave to a crowd, he does him an indignity, making him no different from a purse-toted Pekingese. As he carries the swaddled stocky animal off Air Force One, hoists him into a limo, blows kisses with him tucked neatly under an arm, Barney's embarrassment is palpable.

Bush can indeed reap the benefit of appearing as benevolent caretaker to a feisty, glossy thoroughbred in his own desired image.

But making Barney wave just won't work, 'cause this dog isn't taking requests, either.