A man who used to occasionally dine on duck learned to dine with ducks when he fell in love with a duck-obsessed pet parent.

But co-parenting a pampered pooch, duck or ferret isn't always so easy.

The new childhood belongs to the dogs. Literally.

Baby boomers began elevating the status of pets decades ago. No longer were pets simply there to serve a utilitarian purpose, such as protecting the house or providing companionship; they were part of the family. The longer couples wait to have children, the more childlike their pets have become to them. Empty-nesters replaced the children in the center of their orbit with furry companions -- ones much less likely to talk back and slam doors.

Lisa Tucker, executive producer for "Spoiled Rotten Pets," which aired on Nat Geo Wild, says she watched pet culture become more luxurious and indulgent years ago in Los Angeles and New York.

"Of course, there are doggie weddings and 'bark mitzvahs,'" she said. "You see people pushing dogs in $200 strollers pretty regularly in New York City." But she was surprised to see that it wasn't just cats and dogs that got the best of their owners' love. The show featured women who knitted clothes for their ferrets; a woman who painted her ducks' feet, made outfits for them and took them on bike rides in a basket; and a couple who took their two pot-bellied pigs to a day spa and installed a doorbell at snout level for them at their house.

"You would think a lot of the indulgence came from people who had the money and time," Tucker said. "But that wasn't necessarily the case."

And spoiled pets can be found throughout the land, from the smallest town in the heartland to the reddest of red states.

Owners have pushed pet industry expenditures to more than $58 billion annually, according to the American Pet Products Association. The figure has risen every year through the Great Recession, with more than a 20 percent increase in the past five years.

There are times when family members draw the line. One reptile-lover's home was divided into two levels at the wife's request: reptiles downstairs, humans upstairs. No boa constrictors allowed in the bedroom.

Pampered pooches have entire bakeries and gourmet lines devoted to their treats.

Kathy Caton, owner of a St. Louis Three Dog Bakery, has catered a dog wedding (Jose and Lily's), baked numerous gourmet birthday cakes and hosted "doggie nights out" at local restaurants with a specialized, pup-friendly menu. She says as people have become more conscious about the quality of the food they consume, they want the same organic, healthy standard for their pets. I have a friend who drives to an organic dairy to purchase raw milk for his cat, who eats organic Cornish game hens and wild-caught salmon several days a week.

Lab mix Maggie wandered around Three Dog Bakery in a blue sequined tutu, purple pedicure on her paws. Her daddy got her ready this morning for her puppy playdate and didn't even need any coaching to pull her outfit together.

"I can't believe I'm walking a dog with a skirt on," Steven Davis, 31, thought to himself, that morning. By way of rationalization, he said: "Everyone thinks she's a boy if I don't."

"She's got bows in her hair," Maggie's mama, Faronda Davis, 30, said.

The Davises, owners of a children's cooking school, exhibit some of the typical divisions that can come up in a pet-centered home. They have a human daughter, Ayla, 11, and they rescued Maggie, now 4 months old, when she was 7 weeks. Allegedly, they got the puppy for their daughter.

"I do want to have a birthday party for her," Faronda said.

"We are not doing that," her husband said.

"She's sweet. She deserves it."

"I think it's crazy," he said, to no one in particular.

Maggie looked unfazed. A smart pup, she had a fair idea who would win this battle.

When her family goes on vacation, she stays in a plush doggie hotel.

"Honey, be honest," Faronda said, to her husband. "You wanted to put her in that horrible kennel. I said, 'No way is she staying in a kennel.'"

"I really have no say," Steven finally admitted.

It's a familiar scenario to Steve Tharp, who works part-time as a pet photographer. He says pet owners are willing to spend as much on dogs as they do on children's portraits, if not more. He's had clients spend anywhere from a few hundred to more than $2,500 on a dog portrait package. There's usually a negotiation between the "parents" about how much to spend.

Typically, the wife wants to spend a little more, and the husband comes to the digital viewing of the photos to put a check on things, Tharp said.

"The woman usually wins," he added. There have been tears shed in some of the photo preview sessions.

But don't worry if Fido picks up on tension between mommy and daddy.

You can always hire a pet therapist.

It was, of course, a popular mean girl who made my life miserable in middle school.

She made a point to ask me, in front of whatever audience she could rally around her, if I had attended the big party over the weekend. (I never had.) If I had found a boyfriend. (Nope.) If I even had a clue about the fantastic life that she and her friends led. (Not really.)

While her needling seemed like the end of the world when I was 11 and 12, it taught me to have a great deal of compassion for the marginalized as I grew up. I've wondered what happened to my young tormentor as the years passed. A new study out of the University of Virginia suggests she should have been nicer.

Published last month in the journal Child Development, it followed the "cool kids" from middle school for a decade. It's true what they say about peaking too young: The socially precocious teens in middle school fell lower on the social hierarchy by high school. And in their early 20s, they had more problems with drugs and alcohol, more trouble with the law and were less competent in their friendships.

What's surprising is that the middle school "fast-track," as measured in this study, seems tame compared to the images put forth in current pop culture. One of the markers identified middle schoolers who reported becoming seriously romantically involved at this age, as in making out with a boyfriend or girlfriend, but not going further than that.

"Some people might see that as normative at age 13, but that's actually very precocious," said Megan Schad, a co-author on the paper. The other measures looked at whether the teens had gotten in trouble for such things as skipping school, shoplifting, sneaking into movies or participating in minor vandalism. Lastly, those who cared a lot about appearances -- surrounding themselves with just the pretty ones -- and who expressed an extreme desire to be popular scored high on the study's scale. All of these behaviors were aggregated into one measure to gauge later outcomes.

The cool kids from the Virginia study, when compared with their peers at age 23, had a 45 percent greater rate of troubles with alcohol and marijuana use and a 22 percent greater rate of adult criminal behavior.

When children do things at 13 that would seem more age-appropriate for 16 and 17, that's a red flag for future problems that parents ought to take seriously, Schad said.

This type of risk-taking and look-at-me behavior may lead to a sort of "pseudomaturity:" an extreme desire to appear older and impress others without actually learning how to connect with them, she explained. It makes sense that teens who are preoccupied with appearances, rather than being a good friend, are likely to have trouble with friendships later in life.

"The majority, or the 'normal kids' from middle school, have outcomes in the long run that are healthier," she said. "If you got ignored during middle school, it's probably not a bad thing."

Fortunately, I was spared crushing isolation during those difficult years because I grew up with cousins who were my best friends. Plus, my parents enrolled me in weekend Islamic school, where a tight group of friends understood the cultural and religious restrictions my immigrant parents placed on my nonexistent social life. Those peers endured the same.

The study should serve as a warning to those who want their middle-schoolers to be popular. It may make those dark and angsty years easier to bear, but at what cost down the line?

As my own daughter ventures into the middle school abyss this year, I've reminded her: The most interesting people you meet as adults are typically survivors of a tortured middle-school experience.

Phil Davies, 88, shuffled a few steps behind his new bride down the long hallway, leaning his right side on a metal cane to ease pressure off his bad ankle.

That's what he gets for robbing the cradle.

Gloria, 83, walked into his apartment and started looking through a few papers.

"I'm still waiting for the name change documents," she said and threw her hands up. "It's maddening." She still has most of her things in her own unit while the couple waits for a larger one to become available. She settled into the couch and glanced at the sparkly 1-carat rock on her finger, a gold band with smaller diamonds on either side.

"Even if the marriage doesn't last, I'm keeping the diamond," she said, laughing. Phil, 88, finally sits next to her. The newlyweds kept touching each other -- a pat on the knee, a caress on the hands.

They had moved into the Breeze Park retirement community in St. Charles, Missouri within a few months of each other in 2011. He had been widowed a few years prior, after 58 years of marriage. She had had a longtime companion; they had never married nor lived together, and he had passed away more than 20 years earlier.

In Gloria's first week at the center, the hostess in the dining room seated her at a table with Phil and two other women. Phil, a retired pilot, struck up an easy conversation with her, since she had also traveled considerably in her former career. Then Phil discovered that he and another woman at the table had a mutual friend, and Gloria remembers thinking, "Hmm ... he's talking more to her than me."

Phil interrupted her: "But I only had eyes for you."

Living in a retirement community is a lot like living in a small town or college dorm. The two wanted to meet again, but kept missing each other. Phil spotted her walking in once while he was in his car headed to dinner. He turned around and tried to catch up with her.

"She must have been running," he said, because he lost track of her by the time he made it in. They finally made a plan to meet at the hostess station for dinner, and once they figured out that system, they rarely missed one another. They were the talk of the community.

One night, he asked if he could walk her back to her apartment.

"I'm a big girl. I can walk myself home," she said. (She was worried about the distance from her place to his, given his fused ankle from a plane crash years ago.) After several months, right before Easter weekend, Phil asked if she would like to go out to dinner with him. Neither of them had been on a date in decades.

She wore black slacks and a turtleneck with a turquoise vest. He wore a jacket and tie. When she saw him, she thought: "Wow. He's handsome."

Phil took the long, scenic drive back from the winery. He thinks he got as far as a handshake that evening. Undeterred, he asked her out again. They talked about their families, their work -- everything, really.

"Mr. Davies, I think I'm becoming more than a little fond of you," she said one day.

"I think it's further along than that for me," he replied. Still, she was reluctant to make their relationship more serious. She had never been married.

As parents, we hope our children find lasting love and a companion to grow old with, but timing has a mind of its own.

An only child, Gloria's parents had never pressured her to marry simply for the sake of marriage. She had worked at Southwestern Bell for 37 years, took an early retirement and worked as a tour guide for a travel agency for another 19 years.

Phil understood and didn't want to rush Gloria. But last December, he said he would like to buy her a ring.

"We don't have to get married right now," he said. "The time will come, but I just want to stake my claim."

She agreed. Soon after they picked out the ring, the younger employees in the cafeteria and fitness areas wanted to hear about wedding plans. A few took Gloria shopping for a wedding dress. She insisted on sleeves. She wanted to keep it as simple as possible, but the wedding "just grew like Topsy," she said.

A few people asked them why they bothered to get married at their age.

"If God gives us 10 years, 5 years, 2 years, or another hour together, it's a gift," Gloria said.

Phil asked his son, Dan, to be his best man; Dan, thrilled to see his father so happy again, said he was honored. The engaged couple told the pastor to keep the ceremony short and sweet because they weren't sure how long they could stand at the altar.

They asked a minister and his wife to sing their song at the ceremony. When the music started, Phil stared at his bride and started softly singing to her. She sang the words back to him.

"Let me call you 'Sweetheart,' I'm in love with you."

"Let me hear you whisper that you love me too."

"Keep the love-light glowing in your eyes so true."

"Let me call you 'Sweetheart,' I'm in love with you."

There weren't many dry eyes in the packed chapel at Breeze Park that day.