A Fugitive Gains Fame in New Orleans Eluding Dart Guns and Nets

Michelle Cheramie, director of Zeus' Rescues, left, walks with Scrim at the Metairie Small Animal Hospital in Metairie on Thursday, Oct. 24, 2024.(Brett Duke/The New Orleans Advocate via AP)

A scruffy little fugitive is on the lam again in New Orleans, gaining fame as he outwits a tenacious band of citizens armed with night-vision binoculars, nets and a tranquilizer rifle.
Scrim, a 17-pound mutt that's mostly terrier, has become a folk hero, inspiring tattoos, T-shirts and even a ballad as he eludes capture from the posse of volunteers, The Associated Press reported.
And like any antihero, Scrim has a backstory: Rescued from semi-feral life at a trailer park and adopted from a shelter, the dog broke loose in April and scurried around the city until he was cornered in October and brought to a new home. Weeks later, he'd had enough. Scrim leaped out of a second-story window, a desperate act recorded in a now-viral video. Since then, despite a stream of daily sightings, he's roamed free.
The dog’s fans include Myra and Steve Foster, who wrote “Ode to Scrim” to the tune of Ricky Nelson’s 1961 hit, “I’m a Travelin’ Man.”
“I'm a travelin' dog and I've made a lot of stops/All over this town...” Leading the recapture effort is Michelle Cheramie, a 55-year-old former information technology professional. She lost everything — home, car, possessions — in Hurricane Katrina in 2005, and in the aftermath, found her calling rescuing pets.
“I was like, ‘This is what I should be doing,’” Cheramie said. “I was born to rescue.”
She launched Zeus’ Rescues, a nonprofit shelter that now averages 600 cat and dog adoptions a year and offers free pet food to anyone who needs it. She helped Scrim find the home he first escaped from.
It was Cheramie's window Scrim leaped from in November. She's resumed her relentless mission since then, posting flyers on telephone poles and logging social media updates on his reported whereabouts. She's invested thousands of dollars on wildlife cameras, thermal sensors and other gear. She took a course offered by the San Diego Zoo on the finer points of tranquilizing animals.
And she's developed a network of volunteers — the kind of neighbors who are willing to grid-search a city at 3 a.m.
“...And at every stop I own the heart, of at least one lovely ... " People like writer David W. Brown, who manages a crowd-sourced Google Map of all known Scrim sightings. He says the search has galvanized residents from all walks of life to come together. As they search for Scrim, they hand out supplies to people in need.
“Being a member of the community is seeing problems and doing what you can to make life a little better for the people around here and the animals around you,” Brown said.
And neighbors like Tammy Murray, who had to close her furniture store and lost her father to Parkinson's disease. This search, she says, got her mojo back.
“Literally, for months, I’ve done nothing but hunt this dog,” said Murray, 53. “I feel like Wile E. Coyote on a daily basis with him.”
Murray drives the Zeus' Rescues' van towards reported Scrim sightings. She also handles a tactical net launcher, which looks like an oversized flashlight and once misfired, shattering the van's window as Scrim sped away.
After realizing Scrim had come to recognize the sound of the van's diesel engine, Murray switched to a Vespa scooter, for stealth.
“...If you're ever in the 9th Ward stop and see/My cute little mini poodle ...” Near-misses have been tantalizing. The search party spotted Scrim napping beneath an elevated house, and wrapped construction netting around the perimeter, but an over-eager volunteer broke ranks and dashed forward, leaving an opening Scrim slipped through.
Scrim's repeated escapades have prompted near-daily local media coverage and a devoted online following. Cheramie can relate.
“We’re all running from something or to something. He's doing that too,” she said.
Cheramie's team dreams of placing the pooch in a safe and loving environment. But a social media chorus growing under the hashtag #FreeScrim has other ideas — they say the runaway should be allowed a life of self-determination. The animal rescue volunteers consider that misguided.
“The streets of New Orleans are not the place for a dog to be free,” Cheramie said. “It’s too dangerous.”
"... and my Shar-Pei doll down in old Treme/Waits for my return ..." Scrim was a mess when Cheramie briefly recaptured him in October, with matted fur, missing teeth and a tattered ear. His trembling body was scraped and bruised, and punctured by multiple projectiles. A vet removed one, but decided against operating to take out a possible bullet.
The dog initially appeared content indoors, sitting in Cheramie's lap or napping beside her bed. Then while she was out one day, Scrim chewed through a mesh screen, dropped 13 feet to the ground and squeezed through a gap in the fence, trotting away.
Murray said Cheramie's four cats probably spooked him.
“I wholeheartedly believe the gangster-ass cats were messing with him,” Murray said. Cheramie thinks they may have gotten territorial.
Devastated but undeterred, the pair is reassessing where Scrim might fit best — maybe a secure animal sanctuary with big outdoor spaces where other dogs can keep him company.
Somewhere, Murray says, “where he can just breathe and be.”