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If heaven truly exists
I believe that it would have an unlimited number of dog parks.
Wait. Scratch that.

More like wild open spaces filled with trees and streams and logs and all sorts of things that contain the scents of past adventures.
Squirrels and rabbits sprinting, always ahead of their pursuer, only close enough to provide the chase.

There would be dogs in cars, in trucks, stretching themselves through windows, catching the wind with their tongues.
There would be an ocean, a river, a lake, where they could bark and play, dig and run.

A buffet of indefinite length holding tubs of peanut butter, buckets of salmon, and plates overflowing with rawhides and kongs and kibble.
A simple roll over for a warm belly rub and a nap in the late afternoon sun. 

Samantha, and Sugar Bear, and Pluto, and Daphne, and all of the other great dogs would be there, waiting for their pal.
They would take turns sniffing butts, just to verify that yes, you are my friend, and yes, I do want to play.

They would be young again, with no aching joints, no sick tummies, no back pain.
 Just love, lots of love, and sunshine without end.