Repair for a Broken World?

When I started this blog I was mostly interested in talking about my paintings and some of the animals I have known. However, as months went by and I posted stories about some of the dogs and cats I have painted for myself and other people, along with images I had created and photos I had taken, I began to look deeper for a way to connect.
Each week I thought about what image I would post and what I would say about the painting. At first I thought I would only post about pets--thus the "petsbyhollis" name. But as time went by, more of my personality came through and I began to think I would blog about this thing I had made or that thing I had begun and never finished, knowing there were individuals out there who did the same thing. I hesitated, thinking that to be too diverse would be unfocused and less professional than I wanted to appear.
A very wise woman who has the ability to be succinct and supportive at the same time told me "it is your blog--write what you want". So I began to stray from only posting about the pets.
I started with the Graveyard Quilt because I find that story so compelling. Then I responded to the writing challenge at FOLK magazine(where I have a small ad). The challenge was to take a family photo and tell a story. I chose a photo of my mother and told the story about her trip to the state capitol when she was sixteen. I posted a drawing of a boy and a dog as preliminary work for a painting. Unfortunately, I have not put brush to canvas to work on the painting--it is on the "to do" list.
Listening to NPR is an informative and sometimes painful endeavor. I hear stories that make me mad, that make me more compassionate, that make me smile and laugh, that make me wonder how we as the human race have lasted as long as we have. And some stories make me so angry and give me such feeling of impotence that my sleep is disturbed.
When this happens I have the choice to double over in pain, throw something, take up militant songwriting or-----------paint.
I have chosen painting because I have loved ones who would protest my taking up arms.
This painting is unfinished (as so many things are) but coming along nicely in what I want to say.
A young child, like a blank canvas with the whole future ahead of her. A world teetering on the edge with broken pieces at her feet.

The story that has me so disappointed in our world is the Bob Edward's story(NPR 3/3/2013) about the dwindling population of the wolves in the West. Since they were taken off the endangered list their numbers have gone from 1,700 to 700. Wolves are such a critical part of the ecosystem, that for no other reason, they should be protected. They are social animal who mourn their dead and care for their offspring and their society. Research has shown that dogs kill more livestock than are killed by wolves. I have also read that the government reimburses the livestock owners for stock lost to wolves. So what is going on here--the Little Red Riding Hood syndrone? The thought of no wolves in Yellowstone breaks my heart and makes me sing militant songs like in the 60's. Where are rest of us?