They arrive early and often, many of them harried parents dressed for work —- heels, hose, dress shirts, ties —- walking or trotting or being yanked from the parking lot through the day care door in Midtown by little Rusty, Oreo, Rufus, Scout ...

"She loves coming here," says Judy Perdue, 66, of Maya, her high-energy, 8-month-old border collie/German shepherd mix.

"She doesn't have puppies to play with at home, and she has a special friend here. A yellow Lab."

Perdue, a social worker, smiles.

"It's kind of irresistible as a parent," she adds.

It's also kind of a sea change in how people care for their pets, as well as a twist on the passing morning circus known as daily life. Doggie day care is not a new concept. This place, Piedmont Bark, where 50 to 70 dogs arrive each morning, opened five years ago.

Yet the notion of dropping off a dog just for the day to socialize, get exercise and even nap is fresh enough that most who bring their pets grew up in a world where "doggie day care" would've sounded more like a punch line than a boarding option.

"My mom tells all her friends about it," says Conoly Flynt, 28, who grew up in Waycross with a pet dog in the backyard, but who now brings 3-year-old Rusty to Piedmont Bark three mornings a week on her way to work. "They all think it's humorous."

Adds Tommy Jones, 46, an emergency-room doctor from Morningside, "It still catches some people off guard. I tell them about day care for my dog, and they make fun of me."

That's their problem. Doggie day care is booming. Rodney Wade, assistant manager at Piedmont Bark, said a new one seems to open every few months.

The service caters to working singles and couples who don't want their dogs cooped up in a room or a crate all day at home. Or who don't trust them to stay in the house by themselves without tearing everything to shreds.

"He chews on things," Jones says of Sidney, his 2-year-old Goldendoodle. "Not furniture, but shoes, belts, anything that smells like leather."

Of Sidney's time at day care, Jones adds, "We're both happier."

"Happy" is the word used most often by doggie day care "parents."

"It starts at home, as soon as I say, 'We're going to the Bark,' " says Candice McCloskey of her Great Pyrenees. And it's what day care staffers try to make pets and their owners.

Ashna Parti, 34, is moving to El Paso with her husband. Both are doctors. When they visited Texas, they checked out the doggie day care scene.

"We visited about three doggie day cares and met with the people," Parti says. "It's a big decision."

At Piedmont Bark, dogs arrive as early as 7 at a converted furniture warehouse that has the cool, exposed look of a Midtown loft. Baked treats in the shape of ice cream cones, bears and squirrels are sold in the lobby (and they're pretty good, according to staffers who've sneaked bites). A lobby table holds glossy copies of Bark and Doggie magazines.

New dogs are given a trial day to gauge their temperament and see how well they play with others. Dogs are segregated into various indoor "play areas" by such characteristics as size, age and disposition.

"Dogs are social," Wade says. "People think because they have teeth, they'll bite. But as long as they're socialized early and learn to communicate naturally as dogs, they'll get along.

"Most disputes are settled without a physical altercation," he adds. "They rarely have serious fights. But they do have sharp teeth so things happen.

"It's like kids in day care when they get bruised knees. But nothing too severe."

This Tuesday morning, more than 20 big dogs, including a Great Dane named Mason, romp around one area like kids on a schoolyard. A wall-sized mural of Piedmont Park's lake and gazebo, dotted with lolling dogs, serves as background.

The real dogs do dog stuff: romp, bark, hang out. Sometimes one takes off and a bunch of others follow.

Staffers call the game "rabbit and fox."

No telling what the dogs call it.

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ABOUT THIS SERIES

Each week this summer, Atlanta A.M. will bring you a slice of life from our metropolis, presenting ordinary events in the light of a brand new day. Have a suggestion? E-mail djubera@ajc.com.