He quit a dream job—now his therapy dogs help 150,000 people with autism and depression

Some stories seem too good to exist, but they actually do.

Just like the story of Wu Qui.

Wu Qi, a graduate in computer science from Nanjing University had a well-paid job at a gaming company, Wu shocked everyone in 2006 when he quit a promising career to chase a very different passion: helping people through dogs. His father was furious, even calling friends and relatives to block financial support and urging him to close his pet ventures—but Wu refused to back down.

The spark for his life’s mission came early. As a child with mild autism, Wu learned to communicate with the world thanks to a scrappy dog he rescued from a rubbish bin at age nine, according to South China Morning Post. Later, his husky showed him the limits of conventional training when destructive behavior turned timid after a formal training program. Determined, Wu taught himself scientific dog training methods, blending compassion with technique.

According to the outlet, his work first gained attention online, and a 2012 television appearance with his husky brought real-life validation. A mother approached him after the show: her autistic child, who had refused to speak to anyone, started copying Wu’s interactions with the dog. That breakthrough inspired Wu to formalise therapy dog training in China.

Over the next decade, his Shanghai-based organisation, Paw for Heal, has trained over 5,000 dogs, with 400 passing professional therapy certifications. Many of these dogs were rescued strays, proving second chances aren’t just for humans.

The organisation now serves more than 150,000 people, including children with autism, teenagers facing depression, elderly people with dementia, end-of-life patients, and everyday workers under extreme stress. Wu recalls one elderly Alzheimer’s patient who could no longer remember family members’ names but recognised every dog the organisation had introduced—a testament to the emotional power of these animals.

Wu ensures the dogs work no more than four hours per day, with time for play and massages, emphasizing their wellbeing alongside human care. His programs are self-sustaining through paid volunteer and therapy dog training courses, aiming to expand nationwide. While China’s therapy dog network is still small—just hundreds compared to 300,000 in the US.—Wu dreams of wider adoption, better animal protection laws, and greater public tolerance for pets.

Even his father, once a skeptic, has come around, warmed by the joy Wu’s dogs brought into his own home. “Well-trained dogs do not bring fear or injury,” Wu says, “they bring warmth and happiness.” And for hundreds of thousands of people, Wu Qi and his therapy dogs have done exactly that.