Say goodbye to the puppies, picture-book grandchildren, wandering syntax and aerobic golf.

These are a few of George Bush's favorite things. And, long after he and Barbara pack up and move down to Houston, memories of these human touches will linger along with his accomplishments and failures as president.

Bush has loved being president, working the phones, making things happen. He's a guy who loves gear and gizmos, and he couldn't get enough of the remote controls, VCRs, talking cars and other high-tech toys that came with the job. And when they didn't work, hey, push the auto-dial and somebody comes to fix 'em.

He was wild for parties, and nobody ever turned down an invitation to the White House. Crystal Gayle, the singer with the floor-length hair, came for a sleep-over. And so did Dana Carvey, the comic who made a career out of mocking the president. Wouldn't be prudent to leave Washington without having Carvey spend the night and do that imitation thing.

Bush was a high-speed athlete and cutthroat competitor-in horseshoes, tennis, on the links-and he invented a sports lingo all his own. Never could figure what he meant when he hollered "Vic Damone" before a long drive.

He didn't cheat but he sure liked to win. Called himself "Mr. Smooth" when he got in that sporting mode.

Like any veteran politician, Bush knew deep in his genes that his picture with a cute kid or a cute animal endured much longer than lofty words, and the Bushes had kids and pets in profusion. There were 10 grandchildren on Inauguration Day 1989; as the Bushes leave Washington, there are an even dozen, with another one on the way (daughter Doro's third).

The older grandchildren were eloquent campaigners for "Gampy," and the smaller ones with their big, red hairbows and beloved stuffed animals showed us why Bush sometimes got emotional when talking about family.

As for the dogs, Millie came through with a mighty photo op, producing a litter of brown-and-white bundles of English springer spaniel joy that were as cute as Christmas and arrived just as we were getting to know our new president.

Remember the Thousand Points of Light? Bush spent the first three years explaining what they were and the last one hoping we wouldn't forget that it was his way of saying, "Help others."

After losing his re-election bid, Bush said he wanted to be a point of light himself, in retirement. "There is a higher purpose to life beyond one's self," he told cadets at West Point on Jan. 5.

Bush likes to tell corny jokes and to hear dirty ones. Some of his very best friends are Democrats who would laugh at the first and make him roar at the second. He also believes in the power of prayer and set this good example: The Bushes went to church almost every Sunday.

For grammarians and speech teachers from Syracuse to Seattle, Bush seemed to speak in tongues. He rarely gave a speech when he didn't step on the applause line, garble his syntax or get lost long before he got to the point.

"I think there were some differences, there's no question, and will still be. We're talking about a major, major situation here that requires constant work. But it was well worth it and there's much more to it than just this-I mean these 16 accomplishments or whatever. I mean, we've got a major rapport, relationship of economics, major in the security and all of that, we should not lose sight of."

That was Bush's summation to reporters of his trip to Japan last year, which will be remembered in the history books for this singular event: Bush vomited on the Japanese prime minister.

Thanks for the memories.

Bush enjoyed letting us see him sweat. He said he ran a nine-minute mile and maybe he did-10 or 20 years ago. For a while, he invited reporters to run along with him as he jock-talked and complained that he had to sleep with a pillow between his knees because his joints ached after the pounding on the pavement.

"Read my hips," he said, pointing to his backside on one of his jogs. That was a response to a question about whether he was selling out on his most memorable campaign promise of 1988: "Read my lips. No new taxes." It was a wisecracking reply to a serious question and it came back to haunt him: The tax increase of 1990 is widely viewed as the beginning of Bush's political undoing. After that, he didn't mouth off much on his 20-minute runs. And he didn't invite reporters along either.

He liked to tear around the Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of his Maine summer estate, in his cigarette boat Fidelity, named not for a marital virtue but a successful business deal in his past.

Bush had trouble convincing people that despite his elite preppie upbringing (Andover and Yale), he didn't like to sail and he didn't much care for fly fishing either.

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